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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486557">still feel.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebluj/pseuds/thebluj'>thebluj</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), And the Summer Before, Angst, Child Abuse, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Eating Disorders, Ghost Draco Malfoy, Ghosts, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Helpful Severus Snape, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, My First Work in This Fandom, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Panic Attacks, Past Tense, Sassy Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:21:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebluj/pseuds/thebluj</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy makes a decision, one that ends up costing him his life. What should have been a quick death instead sends him to Harry Potter's muggle residence - as a ghost. Both Draco and Harry are subsequently stuck with each other, whether they like it or not.</p><p>Featuring: humor, angst, a good dose of anger, and Draco learning Harry isn't at all the boy he thought he knew.</p><p>[NOTE: on soft hiatus until June 18th]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy &amp; Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter &amp; Severus Snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>443</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to my wonderful beta Mellow_cello! Go check out her fic Under the Surface, it's an absolute RIDE. I could not have done this without her, she held me accountable for actually working on this lol.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>note: edited 01/10/21 to fix yet another continuity error</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Dark Lord stood tall and foreboding, a mass of shadows in the Manor’s sitting room. It was laughable, almost, the contrast such an image brought to Draco’s mind. The position he was in was anything but. It hadn’t even been a week since he had returned home from a disastrous fifth year and already, the Dark Lord had a mission for him. In all honesty, he was petrified. There he was, about to do the unthinkable: deny Lord Voldemort. </p><p>Draco had come to the decision months ago; this was no spur-of-the-moment thought. He had seen his future, in Bellatrix’s return to the Manor, in Pettigrew’s weak grovelling. And, in the turning point that truly spurred him to solidify his decision, his father’s own arrest. At that moment, Lucius Malfoy was sitting in Azkaban, his fate up to the mercy of Dementors and Aurors. </p><p>When Draco first heard the news, he was stricken with fear. His own father, the man he thought could do no wrong, had been foiled. Captured and caged, like a beast tamed in the wild. It brought bile surging up his throat; the thought of being in his place - something that would only happen if he continued to follow the Dark Lord. So, Draco solidified his certainty, and vowed to make his grand escape as soon as possible. </p><p>He even had a getaway bag. It was charmed with Wizardspace, so it wasn’t like he had to reduce himself to the bare necessities. Draco had written letters too: one for his mother, with promises to return once the Dark Lord was vanquished, for his father, to remind him of the misfortune that would befall him if he continued on this path. </p><p>But, it seemed, all that preparation was for nought. </p><p>In a moment of stupidity, Draco denied the Dark Lord. He received his mission, and stated to his face, “I refuse.”</p><p>Bellatrix, ever the Dark Lord’s right hand, lashed out with the sort of crazed anger he had come to expect from her. </p><p>“<em> Crucio! </em>” She cried, and Draco fell to the floor writhing in unimaginable pain. He had known this would come, the white-hot blinding torture of the Cruciatus Curse, but he couldn’t care less. There was no way out of it now, not now that he had already expressed his misgivings. If he caved and tried to pass it off as a lapse in judgement, he was sure he would be placed on the Dark Lord’s radar and forced into a life of more pain than he could experience now.</p><p>So, he didn’t regret it. There was no way out of this situation - he had only just turned sixteen, he hadn’t even learned to Apparate. Draco was resigned to his fate. </p><p>When the curse let up, Draco heaved in a breath. “You know I’m right, Aunt Bella. There’s no future with the Dark Lord. We will all perish if we follow him,” he spat, his voice laced with contempt.</p><p>He couldn’t help the flinch when he heard her step forward. “You insolent little--” </p><p>She stopped, and Draco knew the Dark Lord had finally decided to intervene. He looked up to see a spindly hand resting on her shoulder, sharp nails resting easily upon her flesh. He seemed calm, almost as though he had been expecting this. Maybe Draco wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought. He was almost envious of Potter’s position, being able to be so open about the side he took for the war; there was none of the secrecy and convoluted motives that Draco was experiencing.</p><p>“Why do you think this, Young Malfoy? Do you believe your own future to be more important than the greater good? Eradicating the Mudbloods from Wizardkind?”</p><p>Draco was stunned; he expected to be killed on the spot. His traitorous mind whispered that maybe the Dark Lord was dragging it out, wishing to make Draco beg for his own death. Perhaps, a practice run for when he did the same to Potter.</p><p>“I...I...of course not, my Lord. I meant to say-“</p><p>Draco was cut off by a ‘<em> tsk’ </em> from the Dark Lord. </p><p>“If you really think yourself above aiding our cause, then you are of no use to me. <em> Avada Kedavra </em>!”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Draco awoke in a dark room. </p><p>He felt off, somehow. Like he had put his shoes on the wrong feet and didn’t notice.</p><p>He didn’t know what it was, but he expected a headache, or even to feel the remnants of the Cruciatus Curse. </p><p>Yet he felt nothing. </p><p>He only felt detached from his body, from his emotions. His whole being.</p><p>The last thing he recalled was facing down the Dark Lord himself, being deemed unworthy, then a flash of green...and then numbness. </p><p>But somehow, he had woken up. He was still conscious, if not alive. He’d never imagined death to feel so unfeeling.</p><p>By all accounts and appearances, he should have lost all consciousness forever, his mind gone to the aether. But there he was in a bedroom, a muggle one by the looks of it. </p><p>There was little moonlight to see by, even less filtering through the bars fitted on the windows. Very few items decorated the walls - no family photos, paintings, or posters. It looked barely lived-in. But then, a hoot from behind Draco signalled a presence other than himself. He turned, squinting at the corner. An empty cage sat atop a trunk he only barely recognised. No one but Potter had a trunk <em> that </em> ratty. </p><p>With newfound interest, Draco peered at the small bed by the wall. Was that...Potter resting there? He was barely more than a lump beneath the covers, yet the wild hair splayed atop the pillow was obvious enough. </p><p>He was in Potter’s room. </p><p>Right after apparently dying. </p><p>It was a crazy enough situation that Draco finally found the courage to bark out a bitter laugh. Was he cursed to watch his nemesis succeed for the rest of eternity? What a pitiful fate. </p><p>If he was going to suffer, then Potter was going to suffer with him, he decided. Draco strode over to the bed, reaching out to shake Potter awake. </p><p>But then, his hand passed straight through him. It just disappeared as though Draco was intangible himself. Perhaps he was: ghosts were dead, and they could pass through things. Draco’s situation met both parameters. Was he a ghost? If so, why was he at Potter’s residence and not Hogwarts? He’d never seen ghosts anywhere else. </p><p>Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew there was nothing he could do until Potter awoke. A glance at the door showed it was shut tight, an odd flap installed in the bottom. Draco couldn’t pass through it, oddly enough, though not for lack of trying. He was glad Potter was asleep and couldn’t see his, frankly, embarrassing failures to open a simple door.</p><p>So, all other options exhausted, he settled down on the edge of the bed to wait out the night in this boring muggle room.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Potter stirred, and Draco was unable to do anything but watch as his classmate slowly groped around his bedside table for those god awful glasses he always wore. </p><p>“A little to the left, Potter,” he sneered, growing impatient with his fumbling. He held back a snort as Potter startled, the boy finally grabbing his glasses and shoving them on to peer at Draco incredulously.</p><p>“Malfoy? What the fuck? How did you get in here?”</p><p>Potter was already reaching for his wand, and Draco laughed bitterly. “What are you going to do with that? Disarm me? I’ve already lost everything, so why not my wand, too?” He spat, standing up and pacing around the small room, a hand mussing up his hair - no need to worry about ruining the gel, since apparently, there wasn’t even any gel in the afterlife. Cursed to spend his death without his perfectly coiffed hair, was there any fate worse?</p><p>Draco reached into the pocket of his robes just to check, and - yep, his wand was gone. He turned to Potter, an ungainly snarl on his face. “Looks like the Dark Lord got there first. You’ll have to ask him, since my wand didn’t come with me in the <em> fucking </em> afterlife.”</p><p>While Draco was ranting, Potter had been oddly silent. He spoke up now, though, an unreadable look on his face. </p><p>“What do you mean, afterlife?”</p><p>“Exactly what it says on the tin, <em> Potter </em>. I’m dead, kaput, gone, a bloody ghost for all I know.”</p><p>Potter wrinkled his nose. “Like Nearly Headless Nick?”</p><p>Draco crossed his arms and scoffed. “Yes, exactly like Nearly Headless Nick, except I’m not missing any body parts, I’m nowhere near Hogwarts, and I’m locked in a room with Harry Potter of all people. Now, will you put away the bloody wand?”</p><p>“How do I know you’re not lying?”</p><p>Deadpan, Draco walked over to the bed and raised his arm as though to slap that dumbfounded expression off of Potter’s face. The flinch was nice to see, but his hand passing through Potter’s cheek left him feeling unsatisfied. </p><p>He turned back to the window, staring past the bars at the dreary muggle street outside. “Good enough for you, Potter?”</p><p>There was silence, then; “How did it happen?”</p><p>“I defied the Dark Lord. Said I didn’t want to help in his plan that was sure to send me to Azkaban just like my father, and he killed me,” Draco shrugged. “Simple as that. Surprisingly, the Dark Lord doesn’t appreciate insubordination.”</p><p>He turned back to look at Potter. “You <em> do </em> know what insubordination means, right Potter?”</p><p>The tension successfully broken, he watched as Potter spluttered and flushed. “Of - of course I do! I’m not dumb.”</p><p>“Could’ve fooled me,” Draco sniffed.</p><p>Potter opened his mouth as though to insist on his obvious academic prowess, but was interrupted by a banging at the door, accompanied by a shrill screech that sounded more akin to an owl than a person. </p><p>“Boy! Get up!” </p><p>Potter seemed to stiffen, getting out of bed in a flash. Draco was a step behind as he followed at a brisk float - that is, until Potter turned to him and raised a finger to his lips. </p><p>Unspoken, <em> stay quiet </em>. </p><p>He shrugged in response, mouthing <em> I’m dead, I can do whatever I want </em>.</p><p>Potter groaned silently, and yanked the door open. Behind it stood a tall, thin woman with a harsh piercing expression. Draco was reminded of Umbridge from last year, from her demeanour at least. Her body resembled that of a Dementor’s more than a human’s.</p><p>When the woman didn’t comment on Draco’s presence, he realised. </p><p>Potter was the only one who could see him. </p><p>He was invisible to everyone but his worst enemy. Fate really had it out for him, didn’t she?</p><p>Draco took this sign as free reign to chatter as much as he wanted. “So, Potter, you live with Miss Dementor over there, huh? What else, is there a Centaur around the corner? Come on, you <em> must </em> at least have a Werewolf. Is Lupin here somewhere? Or perhaps that criminal of a godfather?” He sneered.</p><p>Potter stopped ahead of him, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Draco saw a slight shake to his shoulders, and wondered if he had gone too far. “Don’t talk about him,” Potter whispered under his breath, just quiet enough that Draco could hear the shudder in his voice.</p><p>“Why not, Potter? Did he go back to Azkaban? You know, if he did, he might be able to meet my father. I’m sure they’d turn out to be best friends.”</p><p>They descended down the stairs, Potter remaining oddly silent. Draco was <em> sure </em> at least one of the things he said would have gotten to the boy. But, no, he simply continued down the hallway to the kitchen.</p><p>“Oh, are you getting breakfast? Doing it to spite me, I bet. Going to rub it in my face, <em> poor Malfoy can’t even eat </em>,” he said as they entered.</p><p>Potter began bustling around the kitchen, mouth stayed determinedly shut. Draco sighed, and floated up to wait by the counter. “Let me know when you’re done, will you? I’d rather like to know when I need to look away so I don’t have to watch your horrible table manners.” Potter didn’t even acknowledge him. How rude.</p><p>Eggs, bacon, pancakes, the works. Draco wasn’t surprised he made himself a traditional Muggle breakfast, though he was taken aback by the portion sizes. “Damn, Potter, how are you so small if you eat that much? I thought for sure it would have kicked in by now and you would look less...bony,” he commented, waving in Potter’s general direction.</p><p>Draco got his answer a moment later, when Potter distributed three plates on the table in front of two of the fattest human beings he’d ever seen (and Miss Dementor), taking only a pancake and a piece of bacon for himself. </p><p>“Why are you cooking for these Muggles? <em> They </em> should be serving <em> you </em> ,” he scoffed. “They’re treating you like a house-elf. They <em> do </em> know you aren’t one, don’t they?” Draco squinted at their beady eyes in a mocking manner.</p><p>He wrinkled his nose at the sight of them eating. “Muggles are so barbaric. No house elves, forced to use the Boy-Who-Lived as one instead. Is that a pancake or just a mound of syrup? I honestly cannot tell. Whoever raised these neanderthals needs to be executed,” he huffed. “Absolutely no sense of manners whatsoever.”</p><p>Potter looked uncomfortable as he moved back into the hallway, and Draco followed, laughing at his own joke. “Executed. Hah! Wonder if they’d join me in this purgatory. Bet even Muggles could make this better.”</p><p>It was at that point that the dam burst. Potter stalked outside, narrowly avoiding slamming the door in Draco’s face, and turned on him fuming. “I’m sure <em> anyone </em> would be better than me! It’s no picnic for me either, <em> Malfoy </em> ,” he hissed, before continuing. “You think I <em> want </em> a bloody Death Eater stalking me twenty-four-seven? Have you even <em> tried </em> to leave? Move on to whatever afterlife you’re supposed to be in?”</p><p>Draco stood on the stoop, dumbfounded. He spotted several jogging moms making their rounds behind them, no doubt whispering about the crazy teenager yelling into thin air. But he was too annoyed to acknowledge them to his companion. “I’m <em> not </em> a Death Eater! I literally just told you I’m here because I <em> refused </em> to be one. Besides, I never asked to be stuck with you! I’d leave and go straight to my godfather if I could. <em> He’d </em> know how to fix this, not some stuck-up, celebrity, weak wannabe wizard like you!” Draco screamed at Potter, having worked himself into a frenzy. It wasn’t like he had specifically gone to God when he died and said <em> ‘yes, hi, I’d like to stalk Harry Potter, the bane of my existence, for all eternity, thanks.’ </em> </p><p>Why Potter was acting like this was all his fault, he had no idea.</p><p>Draco turned his back knowing he was being childish, and sat on the stoop petulantly. Any further arguments Potter may have had were lost to the ringing in his ears as he stared defiantly at the pristine poppies.</p><p>Potter acted like he was only there to annoy him (Draco refused to acknowledge that that was <em> exactly </em> what he had been doing the past twenty minutes). </p><p>It wasn’t like he <em> wanted </em> to be Potter’s shadow, following him everywhere around his drab muggle house. He had a life, or at least, he used to. He hung out with his friends, learned magic with his father, read books with his mother...all things he could have been doing if he hadn’t decided to foolishly defy the Dark Lord.</p><p>Draco hugged his knees.</p><p>He wanted to go home.</p><p>He didn’t want to be sitting on this stoop, unable to even feel the breeze. He didn’t want his only ally in this world to be his enemy as of six years ago. As far as Draco knew, Potter was the only one who could see him. </p><p>Draco was alone unless he wanted to talk to the boy he had tormented at every opportunity for five years. </p><p>He was glad Potter was off somewhere so he wouldn’t see him crying.</p><p>Apparently, ghosts still had tear ducts.</p><p>He only dared turn around half an hour later when he realised Potter hadn’t passed by him to go back inside for breakfast. He rounded the perimeter of the house to find Potter kneeling in a patch of similar flowers he had been glaring at for the past half hour. </p><p>He didn’t react to his presence, even as he muttered out a stilted, “Potter.”</p><p>Well, fine. If he wanted to be that way.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The two existed in silence for the rest of the day, Draco’s scathing comments on Potter’s surroundings having ceased after the argument. It was only later that night, after Potter had been locked into his room and Draco had claimed his spot at the foot of his bed, that the stalemate between them had been broken.</p><p>“Why didn’t you eat?” Draco asked, turned away from a changing Potter. He heard a rustle of fabric, a slight bang, and a muttered “ow.”</p><p>A second later, he inquired again. “Well?”</p><p>Potter sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. That much was obvious.</p><p>He turned back to peer at Potter, who now seemed to be peering in a mirror, dragging a comb through his ratty mop. “Were you not hungry? You always seem perfectly ravenous at school.”</p><p>“Malfoy, drop it,” he responded firmly. The comb got stuck in a tangle and he reached up to wrangle it from his hair. </p><p>Draco held up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Hey, I’m just asking. I don’t think I saw you eat anything all day.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter. Can’t we just focus on figuring out how to get <em> rid </em> of you?”</p><p>“Fine. But we’re coming back to this.”</p><p>Potter put away the comb, no doubt giving up judging by the half-combed state of his hair. “I’m sure. Who do you think is the most likely person to believe me?”</p><p>Draco hummed, holding up a finger. “Well, let’s see. My father is in prison, my mother is most likely under the Dark Lord’s control, my friends are the dumbest people I’ve ever met, and my teachers all hate me after the Inquisitorial Squad. So, we have few options.” </p><p>He paused, then interrupted Potter when he opened his mouth. “And no, we are not going to Dumbledore. That man is useless.” Potter closed his mouth.</p><p>Draco smirked. “There is one option, but you won’t like it much.”</p><p>“Who is it?”</p><p>
  <span>“My godfather, Severus Snape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter groaned. “He hates me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, of course he does. He is a Death Eater, you know, and you’re basically the most Gryffindor person out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy, I am not sending a letter to Snape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “Have it your way then. You know, I think we could be a great pair.” He grinned. “I’ll figure out a way to touch things, and when I do, I’ll make your life so inconvenient you won’t ever be able to find a simple quill again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine! It’s going to have to wait until tomorrow to be sent, though, since Hedwig isn't here, and she can't get in through the window.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grimaced. "Whatever. Tomorrow, then."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There were so many continuity errors I ended up having to fix. D: So if you are a bit confused about anything, please check back to the previous chapter, as it may have been edited! (if it wasn't, please let me know, I'm trying my best to keep this error-free)</p><p>That being said, as of right now, I have no update schedule. I'm currently just getting into the groove of things, and seeing how long each chapter takes me to write. I aim for about 3k words per chapter, and this one I was able to get done in about ten days. Of course, I was still on break for a good chunk of those days, so the next one might take longer because of school haha.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry hadn’t always hated Malfoy. They had an alright conversation that day in Madam Malkins’, but from then on, his distaste for the boy had grown. What he thought was a possible friend turned out to be a prejudiced, mean-spirited kid who bullied Harry’s very first friend. After that, their relationship had devolved into that of rivals, or maybe mutual enemies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just, not a positive one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So to be stuck with the ghost version of his enemy at the same place he received yearly abuse?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was probably the worst thing that could have happened to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To have the boy who made fun of his friend for his poverty bear witness to the starvation, beatings, and neglect the Dursleys inflicted upon him...Harry didn’t even want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all the jokes he’d tell. Especially if he figured out how to communicate with someone other than Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a feeling once that happened, everyone at school would know how pitiful their hero was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry half expected to wake up to find Malfoy in the same spot he had occupied last night; hovering over the frayed bedspread that barely covered the corners, gaze fixed on some unknown point on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t know if ghosts could sleep, but if they could, that was probably the most comfortable spot in the whole room. Everywhere else was bare of anything that could reasonably serve as a resting spot. Maybe his trunk, though that was close to falling apart after five years of constant use.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he was wrong in thinking he could predict Malfoy’s movements. When he awoke to the blaring of his alarm, Malfoy was gone from his bed, and nowhere to be seen upon a quick glance about the room. Harry sat up and reached for his glasses, slamming them on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only then that he noticed the boy floating on the ceiling, nearly phasing through it with how close he was. Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses, making sure he was seeing things correctly. Draco Malfoy was laying upside-down, lounging about relaxedly as if he were on holiday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry already knew to expect Draco would accept his own death quickly, but this was on another level entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One night of brooding and you’ve already moved on?” He called up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A derisive snort came from above. “Of course Potter, did you expect me to wallow forever? Malfoys have better things to do with their time than pout like children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll need to draft the letter when I go outside, so it’ll be a while,” he muttered, changing the subject. He was only good at quips against people he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Malfoy was not one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry got dressed, glad his alarm worked for once (as with most everything else he owned, it used to be Dudley’s - which meant it had been smashed into oblivion daily before it came into his possession), wishing he could change in the bathroom. Unfortunately, his door was still locked, so he settled for awkwardly maneuvering about in his tiny closet. It was as good as it would get; there was no way he was letting Malfoy get any more gossip fodder, like the numerous scars he had painted across his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he opened the now-unlocked door, he snatched a couple pieces of parchment and a pen to stuff down his pants. He heard something akin to a gag from behind him, but he paid no attention to Malfoy’s snide comments. Well, tried to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked downstairs, Malfoy continued on his tirade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down the pants, really Potter? Surely you have pockets? I shudder to imagine what my godfather might do should he know you had handled his post with your </span>
  <em>
    <span>genitals</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he prepared breakfast, Malfoy settled into his seat on the counter without so much as a hitch in his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember third year, don’t you? That horribly wrinkled Potions essay you handed in got a T simply because of that, plus </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> many points from Gryffindor for such a show of disrespect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry clenched his spatula with white knuckles, hissing as quietly as he could under his breath, “I hardly think Snape will care about the state of the parchment since it’ll be delivering such important news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor</span>
  </em>
  <span> Snape, Potter. Just because we aren’t in school doesn’t mean you get to drop the honorifics. Besides, if you think that, then you </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t know my godfather well. Was he not your professor for five years? Surely you picked up </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> cues in that dull brain of yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Malfoy. I don’t have a choice.” He was glad none of his relatives had entered the room yet, but kept his voice low as he wasn’t taking the chance of being caught. They could walk in any second, and if they noticed he was arguing with himself...he didn’t want to imagine the consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy scoffed. “Don’t have a choice, my ass. It’s not that hard to draft the letter in your room, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry ignored him. It was no use explaining that if he were even seen with a paper, he would get it promptly taken away. Or burned. Or he’d be beaten. Not to mention the violation of privacy since he fully expected his aunt to read it as though she had been starved for information her whole life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a wonder he even managed to complete his summer work, though even then, calling it ‘completed’ was a stretch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his relatives had been served and Harry had snatched an extra slice of toast for himself, he left the room wearily, happy at least to be rid of them for the foreseeable future. Malfoy continued to trail along behind him, making snide comments at anything that seemed to cross his mind. Harry had a feeling that by the time this was fixed, he would know more about Malfoy’s life than he cared to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry ate the toast as fast as he could, ignoring the snort from Malfoy. “Remember to chew, Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today was a day he didn’t look forward to; cleaning the upstairs from top to bottom. It had been his job since he could remember, even back when he still slept in his cupboard and rarely ventured upstairs. He was expected to finish it by noon, where Petunia would then shove him outside, no matter if he was done or not, to tend to her garden. It was a wonder he didn’t get higher grades in Herbology considering all the yardwork he had to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry retrieved the supplies from the hall closet, and began working on the hardest part: the bathrooms. Dudley’s was the worst, with shaved hairs littering the sink and urine staining the toilet. He could hear Malfoy behind him complaining impatiently, but as he knelt by the toilet, Malfoy fell silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t pretend to know what he was thinking, but he assumed it was somewhere along the lines of this: </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘The Boy-Who-Lived scrubbing toilets, wait until I tell all of Hogwarts! I can’t believe he’s treated like a House-Elf at home, how pitiful. Poor Potty.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Or something like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have a very high opinion of Malfoy.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry spent the rest of the morning tidying up the bedrooms, Malfoy trailing silently behind. He did his best to ignore him, focusing on his tasks rather than the presence behind him witnessing every demeaning thing he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was surprised there wasn’t more backlash, honestly, when he told Malfoy they would have to wait until the afternoon. He had expected a tantrum, perhaps, or maybe some blackmail. Yet, Malfoy just accepted it with only a little argument. It was out of character for a boy who usually whined at any minor inconvenience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy only spoke when they got out into the yard, finally alone. “You skipped lunch again, Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>skip</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I just…” Harry felt his face heating up with embarrassment. The truth of the matter was that he wasn’t allowed lunch, not if his relatives were home. They didn’t like to watch him eat, they said, his chewing too vulgar to be allowed in their presence. Well, not in those words. The Dursleys were not eloquent enough for that. But Harry got the gist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy snorted, evidently believing himself to have won the argument. “Good. So, how about you go and get something to eat before we begin working on the letter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t do that. Let’s go around back, that way the neighbors won’t notice.” Harry skirted around the property, not looking back to see if his companion was following (he was).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not getting away from this, Potter. I’ve finally found the reason you look so sickly and I’ll be damned if I don’t do something about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry waved a hand behind him. “Good luck with that Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why won’t you just eat?” Malfoy groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, I can’t. Now, are you going to help me write this or not?” Harry had sat in the flattest area he could find, so he wouldn’t poke the paper clean through. True, there was probably going to be soil sticking to the back, but it was a small price to pay for staying away from Aunt Petunia’s beady hawk-like eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket, clicking it open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What in Merlin’s name is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy examined the item incredulously. “What does it do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like a quill, but better,” Harry told him, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Look, you can gawk at the pen all you want later, but right now we need to get this done before my aunt realises I’m not gardening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to kick Malfoy back into gear, as he straightened up and cleared his throat. “Right, right. Okay, address it to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Godfather</span>
  </em>
  <span>...no, wait, he will know it’s not me by your handwriting. Just address him as you normally would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry did so, writing an only slightly messy ‘Dear Professor Snape,’ at the top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay...now write only what I say. Do not edit it, don’t paraphrase either. It has to be exactly what I say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He withheld any sassy remarks, already aware of how important this situation was. They needed to make Snape suitably informed, enough that he would feel compelled to go to a Muggle neighborhood of all things, to see if his worst student really was able to see the ghost of his godson who, as far as he knew, wasn’t even dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Harry didn’t put up a fight about anything, and just wrote down whatever Malfoy said. The letter went as follows:</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Professor Snape,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have been blessed with the presence of Draco Malfoy this summer, though not willingly for either of us. You see, Draco is dead. He defied the Dark Lord, and for that, he was punished. And now he is stuck in this horrid Muggle house with me. We require your assistance, as it seems that Draco is currently a ghost, and I am the only one who can see him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As outlandish as it sounds, every word I write is the truth. This is not a prank, nor is it a lie. Draco has told me to write about “puffy,” that it is worn and silver, and he requires a new one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please write back as soon as possible.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Best,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked it over with thinly-veiled skepticism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will he even believe me? This looks like it was written by a toddler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy seemed to be in a bit of a better mood, his gripes about Harry’s eating habits evidently forgotten. “Well of course, what did you expect? Writing on the dirt like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have a choice. Now, Hedwig! Where are you?” He folded up the letter, not bothering to do anything fancy. He didn’t have the resources for an envelope, let alone of the muggle money to procure one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hedwig came swooping down, an excited hoot coming from her beak. Harry hadn’t been able to feed her much this summer, and they’d been separated practically all month. He gave her a stroke as she came to rest on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take this to Professor Snape, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snatched it from his outstretched hand and several beats of her wings later, she was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence followed, one thick and heavy, neither boy willing to break it. The one goal they had, the only thing driving them, was now gone. There was nothing to work toward, only to wait until they received a response. Harry was used to waiting: he’d waited for days at a time in his cupboard for the next ray of sunlight, he bode his time until the right moment to stay under Umbridge’s watchful eye, and even now, he was waiting until he was of age and could leave his relatives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this was a different kind of waiting. Malfoy’s life, or lack of it, now rested in his hands as the only person who actually knew he existed, and that responsibility weighed more heavily than being the Chosen One ever had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy, no matter how much he refused to admit it, was now dependent solely on Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With their one goal gone, their new dynamic was even more noticeable now. When had Harry ever held the power with Malfoy? It must have been before he rejected his friendship, since after that, it was a constant uphill battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, if he wanted to, he could just ignore him, and that would be that. Malfoy couldn’t do anything about it. It was...disconcerting, how much Harry’s input now affected him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heaved a sigh, slipping the pen back into his pocket as he stood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Potter?” Malfoy seemed more distant than before, perhaps just as lost in thought as Harry had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry cleared his throat. “Now what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy gave him a look as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘you absolute dumbass what do you think happens now?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, sorry, nevermind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He headed to the gardening shed, gathering up a pair of gloves and some shears, along with a watering can. Malfoy was standing in the entrance, looking around as though he had never seen a shed before - he probably hadn’t. “I need to get this done, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy snapped back to attention, crossing his arms. “You’re gardening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter, you haven’t eaten since breakfast. And even then, it was just a piece of toast. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know how to eat a balanced meal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about this right now. Please move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t tested if Harry could actually pass through Malfoy. This was not an appropriate time to find out, in his opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy’s face twisted like it always did whenever Harry talked back. Disgust, laced with pity. As though the idea of someone as tainted as him arguing with a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was laughable. Pity for this poor boy who thought himself able to compete with the likes of Malfoy. Disgust that he would even try. It was horribly familiar, and Harry hated that look with a passion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of my way, Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m not fucking — I’m not doing this with you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy’s face broke, then, into an expression Harry had never seen before. Vulnerability mixed with frustration. It took him aback, the honest look in his eyes. Malfoy was never honest - it was in his nature as a slimy Slytherin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Harry stopped. He put down the watering can, and looked at him expectantly. Malfoy looked surprised - perhaps he hadn’t expected it to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potter, what you’re doing...I don’t understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Why would you limit your food like this, when you never have before? It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>infuriating</span>
  </em>
  <span> to watch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry barked a laugh and picked up the watering can once more. “I always have. This isn’t anything new. Don’t presume to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about me, Malfoy,” he told him, stepping closer with a shrewd look on his face. “You never made the effort to before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, Harry skirted around him to begin on his yard work.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, when Harry was laying in bed, he felt the prickle on the back of his neck like he was being watched. A second later, Malfoy spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always wanted to be like my father. I thought that...maybe if I tried hard enough, I could. He was the epitome of perfection to me. I...I hung on his every word as a child. Whatever he said, I accepted without question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you telling me this?” Harry grunted from under his blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy faltered. “I thought...maybe if I told you about myself, you’d tell me about you. An exchange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fat chance,” he snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just...let me do this, will you, Potter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry reminded himself never to assume he knew what was going on in Malfoy’s mind; he’d probably be wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Go on then, it’s not like I can stop you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he huffed. “As I was saying, I believed my father to be the best. He could do no wrong, and if it seemed wrong, it was because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was wrong in thinking it was wrong. I was trying to live up to an impossible standard, a paradox my mind created. When my father ambushed you at the Department of Mysteries, it was like...a slap to the face. Someone yelling at me saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘this is not what you want!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> And...it was right. The way I was going, I would have been a soldier for the Dark Lord’s army within a year. My father went to Azkaban for that. I always knew, on some level, that that was the fate for the Dark Lord’s followers. Hell, my aunt spent most of my life there for that exact crime. It never really sunk in, though. I thought maybe I could worm my way out of it, or avoid it completely. But my father, the infallible Lucius Malfoy, wasn’t able to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could someone as weak as me do any better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stared at the popcorn ceiling, tracing the inconsistent pattern with eyes that longed for something to look at other than the ghost boy standing there, spilling his heart out to his right. Had he told himself from three days ago that Draco Malfoy would be so vulnerable in his presence, he would have laughed his ass off. But there was no laughing now, not unless he wanted a possible poltergeist on his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t—weren’t weak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy scoffed. “I was killed, Potter. How much weaker can you get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but...you faced down Voldemort. Willingly. That’s way more than I could do. You stood in front of him, and basically told him to fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, didn’t I,” Malfoy chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled. “Yeah, you did. Good night, Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Potter.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Early update! Well, not exactly. I've decided to try to stick to the 10s of every month (10th, 20th 30th), so I was going to wait until Wednesday, but I finished early, so I might as well post it now haha. </p><p>I will be honest, though: I waited about seven days after Chapter 2 was released to actually start this. Yes, you heard that right. I wrote 3k words in less than two days. Pretty proud of myself, not gonna lie. I wrote part of it in English class too lol. Schoolwork? IBDP? Never heard of her. </p><p>Anyway, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their carefully crafted truce shattered in an instant. Draco thought they had a sort of understanding, that Potter would get up the next morning, and instead of preparing a meal for his relatives, make one for himself as well. He was wrong. His amazing speech the night before did nothing to change Potter’s habits. Draco watched in barely-concealed horror as Potter proceeded on with his day like normal, leaving the dining room straight after serving his whale of an uncle. </p><p>Potter had just ignored everything. Sure, he hadn’t promised to change. But Draco thought he would, thought that after being so vulnerable in front of him, that he would decide to stop with this stupid charade and eat already. </p><p>But...no. The day passed exactly the same as normal, except for Draco’s sullen silence. He’d done all he could and nothing worked. </p><p>So he stewed. He stewed when Potter was weeding in the blazing heat, he stewed when Potter prepared lunch for his relatives immediately after. He even said absolutely nothing when, immediately after, they moved upstairs for tidying up. It was his decision to eat, and if he wasn’t going to, then Draco wasn’t going to try. Simple as that.</p><p>Draco wished there was more progress. He wished his admission had struck Potter deep in his heart, and made him change his ways. He made the biggest sacrifice possible, and Potter could have realised it, acknowledged it, and made himself a meal the next morning. But he didn’t, so Draco gave up. He had done all he could. He resigned himself to his silence, and was prepared to keep it.</p><p>Of course, this couldn’t last long. Draco was never good at keeping vows anyway. He lasted until the day after, when he noticed Potter sneaking an apple under his shirt. It wasn’t the fact that that was all he had chosen to eat; no, it was the double standards that boy held. He would eat, but infrequently and only the smallest things he could. So, Draco chastised him. He harped on him, yelling about commitments and sacrifices and Potter’s fucking health. Merlin, was the afterlife so boring that he had become Potter’s personal life coach? It wasn’t like he had any experience in the subject to begin with, his life having ended fairly early on. </p><p>Potter remained unaffected.</p><p>Days passed with no reply from Severus, and Draco continued to notice inconsistencies in Potter’s eating habits. He’d eat, but only when his relatives weren’t around, and even then, it was barely anything. Was he so shy that he didn’t want to eat in front of them? That didn’t match up at all with the Potter he knew from Hogwarts. It was like he had done a full one-eighty and become a completely different person.</p><p>Which was the real Potter?</p><p>Draco had no idea.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Severus finally arrived one day, almost a week after they sent off the letter. He walked into the muggles’ house like he owned the place, robes billowing in that dramatic fashion he favoured. To Draco’s delight, the muggles were cowed into shivering terror. They disappeared from view as soon as the door opened to reveal the wizard - obviously, they knew what Wizards were capable of. Good. Let them scuttle away with their tails between their legs.</p><p>Draco couldn’t help the slight animosity he held toward them after all this time, having witnessed them treat the saviour of the Wizarding World like little more than a House Elf.</p><p>Potter acted much the same as he did in Potions class. Meek, slightly frustrated with having to even be there (when had Draco become so good at interpreting Potter’s emotions?). He offered customary tea, Draco floating behind him offering advice, “Severus prefers to measure his own sugar, so no cubes, Potter.”</p><p>When they had all sat down, Severus turned to Potter, getting right down to business. “I trust you are not lying, Mr. Potter. Know that if this is a...prank, of some kind, you will face dire repercussions.”</p><p>“Of course not, Professor. I wouldn’t have written to you had it not been so serious.”</p><p>Draco snorted. He assumed Potter meant he would have preferred to write to his precious headmaster instead of his least favourite professor. Though it was hidden in subtext, he did not doubt his godfather’s abilities to read between the lines.</p><p>Severus set his cup lightly onto its plate, leaning forward with the sort of intensity Draco knew he reserved only for family matters. “So. Do you have any way to prove this claim?”</p><p>Potter flushed. “Of - of course I do!” Draco rolled his eyes, leaning down to look at the boy he was bound to.</p><p>“Tell him it’s just horrid to be stuck here with you, Potter. Just dreadful. Absolute torture.”</p><p>Potter glanced at him, visibly swallowing. “Malfoy says...he says that it’s, uh, it’s horrid to be stuck with me. Dreadful. Torturous.”</p><p>Draco smirked, watching as his godfather’s face softened. “Yes, that does sound like my godson. Though I am sure I taught him better than to speak in unfinished sentences.”</p><p>“Yes, well, I...I translated loosely.”</p><p>Severus sniffed, leaning back to take another sip of his tea. “Do take care to be more accurate in the future. Now then, Draco, under what circumstances did you come to be in...this state? More specifically, why you chose to defy the Dark Lord.” His godfather was looking to Potter’s right, only a little bit off from Draco himself. Internally, he applauded the man’s intuition. It would have been mildly embarrassing for him to have been speaking to a bookcase and not Draco himself. It was slightly unnerving, though, to have his godfather move on from his death so fast, as though he was inconsequential.</p><p>“Father went to Azkaban, and I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps,” Draco said simply, the sound of Potter’s words echoing his only slightly disconcerting. </p><p>He was a bit surprised at the smile on Severus’ face. “Good, I’m glad you came to your senses quickly. Though, it was unwise of you to announce it straight to his face. You didn’t think to consider the consequences? Surely you must have known he would not let you leave alive?”</p><p>“I had thought, because I was the son of such a loyal servant of his...that I would just be imprisoned. And since I know the Manor better than him...I thought I could escape.”</p><p>When Potter translated, Severus hummed thoughtfully. “Well, no matter now. What is done is done. Now, we must focus on our goal; getting you unbound from Mr. Potter here. Once that happens, we can rebind you to Hogwarts, and that can be your eternal resting place.”</p><p>Draco groaned - living out the rest of his afterlife surrounded by immature children sounded almost like a worse torture than being stuck with Potter.</p><p>“He, um, isn’t thrilled with that plan, Professor.”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sure. That is the best we can do right now, though. Our efforts really are rather thin at the moment, what with the war occurring as we speak.”</p><p>That shut Draco up fairly quickly.</p><p>“So, I suggest we tell the rest of our allies, and gather all the hands we can to aid in research.”</p><p>“I’m not sure they’d want to help me,” Draco scoffed dismissively. When Potter translated, Severus nodded. </p><p>“I admit, it will be a bit of a challenge, but I’m sure I can appeal to their humanity.”</p><p>“Who would know?” Draco asked suddenly, a thought occurring to him. If the other Slytherins found out he was dead, word would spread like wildfire. His father would find out (his mother no doubt already knew and was still grieving), and that dick Zabini would probably snatch up Vincent and Greg for himself. </p><p>“Not to worry, Draco, it is only the most trusted allies of Dumbledore. No one who would have a great effect on the inner politics of Slytherin house, I assure you.”</p><p>After a moment, Severus stood. “If that is all, I have plans I must attend to.”</p><p>Draco lurched, almost as though that would stop him. Potter looked at him, a bit shocked, and called for Severus to wait. </p><p>It took a moment for him to work up the courage, to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind ever since he woke up. “When you go back, can you ask the ghosts at Hogwarts if they’ve ever heard of being bonded to someone? As in, they physically cannot leave their presence?”</p><p>Draco didn’t know if he was special, or if he was cursed. It depended on how one looked at it.</p><p>Severus nodded, once Potter had repeated what he said. “I will look into it. Farewell, Draco.”</p><p>And with that, he was gone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Once Severus had left, the house was back to being a dreary Muggle residence. To Draco, Severus’ mere presence had lit up the home, turned it from something to be resented to something to look forward to.</p><p>Draco fell silent, his interest in the happenings around him sapping away. </p><p>Potter headed to the kitchen, and he followed absentmindedly. He was probably just going to prepare food for his relatives, anyway. Not like that was anything new.</p><p>Or so he thought, until he noticed it was only one sandwich, lathered with mayonnaise and layers upon layers of ham stacked within. Placed on a plate, and...brought upstairs, into Potter’s room. His relatives were nowhere to be seen.</p><p>Draco sat next to Potter on the bed, scrutinising him with each bite he took. </p><p>“I can’t figure you out, Potter. One minute, you refuse to eat, and the next, you’re preparing yourself a massive sandwich.”</p><p>Potter shrugged in response, gaze averted.</p><p>Draco huffed and settled on the bed. </p><p>“I don’t understand you.”</p><p>“You don’t need to,” Potter said through bread in his mouth.</p><p>“Finish chewing first!” He gagged, making a disgusted face. “And maybe I do need to. I’m stuck with you for the time being, might as well figure out why you’re so intent on starving yourself.”</p><p>“It’s not me doing it, you know,” he replied once he swallowed. “I don’t really have a choice.”</p><p>“Come on, Potter, don’t mess with me. Everyone has a choice. Hell, I had a choice to stand up to the Dark Lord for fuck’s sake!”</p><p>“It was either follow him or die.”</p><p>“Yes - well - your situation is different!”</p><p>“And what do you know about my situation, huh? I thought we established this. You know nothing about me.”</p><p>Draco threw his hands up in frustration. “Well, I would, if you fucking talked to me you imbecile!”</p><p>He saw bitter mirth bloom on Potter’s face. “Not happening.”</p><p>“Fine, keep your secrets then. Besides, shouldn’t you be serving those Muggles or something right now? It seems like that’s all you do anyway. No wonder your marks are so bad, you never even do your homework.”</p><p>Potter laid back, hands linked behind his head. “Nope, not today. I can do whatever I want today.”</p><p>And that was exactly what he did. For the rest of the day, Potter lounged about his room, migrating between his books and scribbling barely-legible letters ferried between him and his friends. There was neither head nor hair of the Muggles all day. It was absolute bliss, for both of them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Draco jerked back to attention to the sound of banging at the door. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, except for the fact that it went on much longer than the cursory “wake-up” knocks.</p><p>“Freak! Get up now!”</p><p>Draco heard rustling behind him, and Potter rushed past him, not even caring about modesty it seemed, as he threw torn and oversized clothes on. Draco stood, staring. </p><p>“Why so early, Potter?”</p><p>“Not today, Malfoy,” Potter muttered through gritted teeth. </p><p>Draco shrugged it off, following Potter out into the hall. The sound of stomping echoed from behind them, and Draco swerved to the side, narrowly avoiding the whale of a cousin barrelling past them. </p><p>“Hurry up, freak!” The cousin called behind him as he clomped down the stairwell. Draco groaned, muttering a small, “fucking Muggles,” under his breath.</p><p>Potter stayed silent, trudging down behind his cousin. In the kitchen, his aunt was bustling around, pots and pans clattering.</p><p>“Oh, good, boy, you’re here. Get to work, then.”</p><p>Potter nodded, eyes fixated anywhere but the spindly woman. Draco hovered about, intrigued and confused all at once. Maybe there were guests coming? What made the Muggles so aggravated?</p><p>As Potter worked, Draco wandered about the kitchen, peeking for clues. He’d have liked to go to the sitting room and spy on the Muggles, but it was like there was an invisible barrier stopping him from leaving the room. Because of the bond, no doubt.</p><p>There were no dates emphasised on the calendar, no notes set out with reminders of events. Draco peeked over Potter’s shoulder to find the same meal as normal. </p><p>“So, why all the fuss?” He tried, to no avail. Potter remained silent. He felt truly like an outsider then, everyone within the house knowing what was going on except for him. </p><p>When Potter served his relatives breakfast, his uncle slapped him upside the head with the newspaper. “Took you long enough, freak. God only knows why we keep you. Bringing freaks with you everywhere you go,” he grumbled</p><p>Draco gaped. His father had never hit him before, nor had his mother. He’d never witnessed anything like this; even Aunt Bella, for all her manic tendencies, had never laid a finger on him. Merlin, he’d never even thought something like that could be possible. Families didn’t harm each other. Sure, there would be spats sometimes, but nothing physical!</p><p>Potter looked unsurprised. Expectant, even as though there would be more to come.</p><p>Draco wanted to throw up.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The rest of the morning proceeded in much the same way, with Potter’s relatives growing easily impatient with his insufficient work and lashing out with force. </p><p>Ingrates.</p><p>When Potter wasn’t fast enough cleaning up, the aunt slapped the side of his head. </p><p>When he was on his way to the garden, the uncle fisted his ham hands in his shirt and shoved him aside. </p><p>When Potter crossed paths with the cousin, he was on the receiving end of several punches to the gut.</p><p>These people laid hands on the saviour of the Wizarding World, forced him to work for them, and treated him like shit. If Severus knew, no matter his prejudice against Potter, he would remove him from the home immediately. Draco wondered who had even approved this as a suitable home in the first place.</p><p>When Potter was finally alone, sometime after lunch locked in his room, Draco turned on him.</p><p>“Why do you let them treat you like that?” He asked, voice raising. “You’re the Boy-Who-Lived, for fuck’s sake!”</p><p>Potter looked only resigned. “There’s nothing I can do.”</p><p>“Have you tried - I don’t know - telling someone?” Draco spat, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.</p><p>“No! Never!”</p><p>“What, your pride too big to admit you need help?”</p><p>“That’s not it, Malfoy.”</p><p>“Then, what? Tell me. Why do you allow them to hit you? You’re a powerful Wizard, you could beat them in a second!”</p><p>“I can’t use magic here! I’m still underage.”</p><p>“Then - then - hit them back or something! I don’t know! Do anything, don’t just sit there and take it,” Draco spluttered. “Or are you too afraid of it getting out that their saviour is weak?”</p><p>“Stop it.”</p><p>“No, I will not stop it. Not until you give me a proper answer.”</p><p>“STOP IT!” Potter screamed, tears rolling down his cheeks. Draco froze. He had gone too far. </p><p>He couldn’t have said much anyway, though, for at that moment, a horrific banging came from Potter’s door. </p><p>Then, the locks clicking.</p><p>Then, the door burst open, revealing a heaving red-faced uncle. </p><p>“What is all that racket?”</p><p>Potter’s face lost all its colour.</p><p>The uncle, now in the room’s proper, gripped the boy by his collar. “Answer me, boy!”</p><p>Potter was shaken like a ragdoll, having gone completely limp.</p><p>Draco was petrified, watching the scene with a distant look. This was his fault. If he hadn’t pushed…</p><p>He heard the clacking of a buckle, the shff of leather on denim. The uncle had pulled out his belt.</p><p>And Potter...Potter said nothing, only stripping off his shirt with shaking fingers, bracing himself against the wall. </p><p>The uncle smirked. “Glad to know you haven’t forgotten.”</p><p>When the boy turned around, baring his back to his guardian, Draco gasped. </p><p>All across his back were crisscrossing scars, raised portions of flesh detailing a long history of abuse.</p><p>Draco couldn’t do anything but watch as the belt was looped, then raised far above the pudgy man’s head, then came whistling down to strike at Potter’s back.</p><p>It was the first blow of many.</p><p>It took several for Potter to begin making noise, small yelps and whimpers interspersed with sobs. </p><p>It wasn’t long before he had fallen to the ground, hands still stubbornly gripping the plaster, legs folded underneath him.</p><p>It was terrifying, torture to witness. Draco knelt by Potter, hand hovering above his knee as though if he lowered it, it wouldn’t pass through and would rest upon the skin, offering a grounding point. As it was, though, he couldn’t. </p><p>All he could do was offer small whispers of apologies, sorrowful words merely echoing the myriad emotions rushing through his mind.</p><p>He had never realised the risk Potter faced, talking to him. Just living in this home, he ran the risk of every evening ending up like this one.</p><p>It was that revelation that cued the tears on his own face, tears he wasn’t even sure were real. Could ghosts even cry? He was pretty sure they could.</p><p>Potter was risking torture to help him, was doing everything in his power to unbind Draco, even inviting Severus over when he obviously knew it would end like this. The resignation Potter had with the abuse made much more sense then. Previous actions the boy had made suddenly became clear: why he refused to talk to Draco around his relatives, why he never raised his voice, why he never fought back. He didn’t even wait until school started to contact Severus, when he would no doubt be in much more danger than he was at his relatives’. He wrote the letter as soon as he could, no matter the fact he knew what would result from it.</p><p>Harry was putting everything on the line for a boy he didn’t even like, let alone care for. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It took a long while for the punishment to cease, sweat dripping down the uncle’s forehead and face somehow even redder than it had been before. </p><p>Red was everywhere, Draco could barely see any other colour.</p><p>It drenched Harry’s back.</p><p>It painted his face.</p><p>Flecks of red were strewn about the room, staining the carpet. Draco wondered how he hadn’t seen the old stains before then.</p><p>The uncle left.</p><p>All was quiet for a moment, except for Harry’s laboured breathing.</p><p>He then rose gingerly, keeping his back hunched as he hobbled over to the bed. </p><p>Draco followed behind him like a duckling, at a loss for what to do.</p><p>He sat in his spot at the end of the bed, staring as Harry laid atop the covers, wounded back exposed to the room’s stuffy air.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t know,” he whispered, voice breaking with emotion.</p><p>“I didn’t tell you. Of course you didn’t,” came Harry’s voice, muffled by the pillow and scratchy with overuse.</p><p>“Still. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Harry’s breathing evened out after that, falling into an unrestful sleep.</p><p>Inside, Draco swore to do all he could to get Harry out of there as he stared at the boy’s tattered back in the moonlight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>He was back in the graveyard. It had been over a year since that day, but he never forgot the sight of blood draining from his wrist like a waterfall, the coward standing in front of him, face twisted into a look of pure worship.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not to him, though. No, he would never ask that of anyone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Worship for his Dark Lord, for the man who had plagued him since he was a year old. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was tied down again, forced to watch as the monster rose from the ashes like a phoenix, piercing red gaze narrowing upon him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A smile spread across his face, stretching cracked lips in the most horrid of ways.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He struggled, yes, but there was no escaping it, that green light that darted towards him. He had battled it many times before, but here, he could not lift a finger. He was frozen in place, forced to await his death.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But it never came. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sickly thin face puffed up, rapidly regaining its colour. Soon, it resembled someone he feared more than the Dark Lord himself; a stout man whose fat cascaded off of him in folds of flesh. Both extremes were equally frightening, but it wasn’t his appearance that caused the shivering to start.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, it was the look in his eyes. A look that insisted this was his fault.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His bindings released, and he fell to the ground limply, kneeling with bones digging into his shins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He wasn’t in the graveyard anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was in the Chamber of Secrets, and his uncle was there, brandishing a basilisk like a whip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was afraid. So, so, afraid. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He tried to scramble away, grasp slipping on the mountain of bones he found himself upon. He sucked in a breath, but nothing came. He was in a void of darkness, the only thing visible a thin sliver of a veil.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Harry!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His godfather was reaching out to him, and he tried to reach back. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Harry!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His arm wasn’t long enough. It was too far away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No!” He cried out, tears falling desperately down his face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Harry!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry!” Draco called out, hands hovering uselessly above Harry’s shoulders. There was nothing he could do but yell, heedless of how loud his voice was growing. It didn’t matter since Harry was the only one who could hear him anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced around the room wildly, as though there was something that might be able to help. How would a ghost even </span>
  <em>
    <span>go about</span>
  </em>
  <span> rousing someone from a nightmare? Draco felt about as disheveled as Harry looked, sweating through the sheets and thrashing around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No...Sirius…” He murmured, and Draco was just about fed up. If he kept at it the wounds on his back would reopen and there was no way he was going to watch Harry try to patch himself up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>muggle way</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HARRY!” Draco bellowed right into his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco jumped back as Harry launched himself up, awake and panting. Draco noted, with mild sympathy, that blood coated the sheets below him. His chest, of course, was saturated with sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old him would have wrinkled his nose and insisted Harry change right then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The current Draco, though, noticed far more than just the obvious. He saw how Harry was still panting, how he was staring at a spot on the bed unwaveringly, how he clutched the blanket like a lifeline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco knew what this was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got them sometimes, when he said something stupid in front of influential people. His father had always drilled into him how every word counted, how he should speak with precision. So when he faltered in this, he often found himself spending time in the bathroom just trying to catch his breath. At those times, the only thing that circled in his head was how it could come back to bite him in the ass, about what they would say about him - no matter how irrational it would turn out to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His way of dealing with them wouldn’t be very applicable here, though. He would walk back and forth, over and over, wearing a line into the ground beneath him until the only thing on his mind was how he was going to have to buy new shoes after this - nothing about the mistake that sent him into this frenzy in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, he had to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was sitting there, suffering. He couldn’t just stand by. He had witnessed a horrible act the night before, and was unable to help then. But this was something he knew, something mental that he knew how to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry. Harry, can you hear me?” He said, floating right in front of the panicking boy. After a slight nod, he continued. “Breathe. You hear me? You need to breathe. I’ll count. In for four, hold for two, out for four. Follow along, Harry.” He tried to exaggerate his breathing, though he wasn’t sure if any of it was helping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Harry’s death grip on the blanket loosened, and Draco let out a sigh of relief, fleeing back to his spot at the foot of the bed once he deemed Harry calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic attacks had always been a private thing for him, so this...this was new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He avoided looking at Harry and stared determinedly at the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it was no problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cursed himself inwardly. It was no problem? Who says that? Dead Malfoys do, apparently. Draco ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the strands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did...how did you know what to do?” He startled, looking behind him at Harry when he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get them...</span>
  <em>
    <span>used to</span>
  </em>
  <span> get them. Sometimes. When I’d say stupid shit. Or when I felt I wasn’t living up to all I was supposed to be,” he shrugged. “Look where that got me. Dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just another failure to add to the list.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t say anything for a while. He assumed the conversation was over, until Harry said softly, “I understand what you mean. I…” he heaved in a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> the saviour everyone wants me to be. Dumbledore always seems like he expects </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> more than I can do.” He looked over to Draco. “You know...you know I never </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be the Boy-Who-Lived, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he did not. His whole life, he had idolised Harry Potter, had created this perfect image of him in his head. When he actually met him, that devotion turned into hatred. He had assumed Harry was an attention seeker, narcissist, and everything a hero shouldn’t be. So this...this came as a surprise to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have shown on his face, because Harry slumped down with a resigned sigh. “I thought as much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Harry. I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t know you. And now...now I do. And I won’t make the same mistake again. Besides, it’s my fault last night even </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If I hadn’t been here, Severus never would have visited. I wish...I wish there was some way I could help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had never felt more useless before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked resigned. “It’s fine. It was going to happen anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t happen at all!” Draco bristled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing I can do about it,” Harry stated, shrugging.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The day passed at a snail’s pace. The door never opened, except for the small flap at the bottom through which a plate of food was inserted. Draco spotted some crumbs in an empty spot, and complained that the cousin had probably stolen some. Harry said nothing, only ate his undercooked eggs quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was infuriating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had closed himself off, and Draco felt like he was walking on eggshells around him, as though one wrong step could cause him to blow up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to mention the fact that they were stuck in the same four-walled room for the entire day. The door remained locked, and Harry stayed silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tried making some jokes at the relatives’ expense, poking fun at their annoying habits and figures, but all he got in return was a rough reply, “I’m lucky they even let me live here at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was the end of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stewed, and Harry moped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a pair.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They were let out the next day, much to the uncle’s chagrin. It seemed the aunt had finally gotten her way. Draco didn’t doubt that the only reason she wanted Harry out was because she was having guests over that night and didn’t want to cook everything herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco, of course, was forced to watch Harry be ordered around by a woman he could easily overpower, and use the primitive muggle appliances for a full five hours before they were sent back up to be locked into the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hovered above the bed, sending quick glances to Harry. He wanted to ask why he didn’t tell someone, why he had accepted his situation, why he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>try harder</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Harry’s back was raw with wounds, he knew his mind would be as well. He wouldn’t risk breaking this flimsy relationship they had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than the first day, though, the next week proceeded as normal. Harry was forced to do manual labor the whole day, then stuck behind a locked door for the night. It was grueling, not to mention immensely frustrating and boring for Draco, all his questions left unanswered and unasked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The monotony was interrupted at the end of the week, though, with a knock at the door. It was Severus again, back with (hopefully) good news. The uncle called for Harry, his voice rough with distinct uncomfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rushed down the stairs before Harry, shaking with excitement. “Finally! You would never believe how horrible it’s been here. Did you know they make him do </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the cooking? Without magic, no less!” He floated around his godfather, telling him everything he knew he wouldn’t hear. It didn’t matter much to him - he was just happy to see a friendly face again. The awkward standoff with Harry wasn’t helping his feelings of isolation, not to mention the hostility from the muggles all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry came down slower, giving a quick meek nod to his uncle before stopping to stand in front of Severus. Draco peered over his shoulder at Harry, taking in the pale look on his face. Something was wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus, though, seemed to pay no attention to him, only turning with a dramatic </span>
  <em>
    <span>thwip</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his robes and stalking out onto the porch. “Come along, then, Potter, we haven’t got all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The aunt came running up to the pair as they left, hissing a loud, “not where people can see!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus turned and regarded her with disdain, scoffing. “That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> standard procedure, Petunia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So her name was Petunia. At least now Draco could stop calling her “the aunt”. It reminded him of his aunt Bella, who must have been the one to dispose of his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe the Dark Lord had one of his grunts do it, since that was all Draco was worth to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went to a secluded corner behind the house and Draco hovered nearby, unsure what to do. He looked at Harry. “When you apparate, will I go with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry glanced at him. “I’m not sure. Professor, will Draco be able to apparate with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus raised an eyebrow at the sound of Draco’s first name, but stayed impassive. “We are not sure. This is just the first of many tests we will do to see the limits of Draco’s newfound...position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wrung his hands, and gave a hesitant nod to Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s go then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gripped Severus’ arm tightly, and in a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Draco was left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, a searing pain spread from the tips of his toes all the way to his temples. It was the first time he had felt anything physical in...at least a fortnight. It was overwhelming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a scream, he collapsed to his knees, trying to find something to ground himself. Nothing was there, nothing tangible. He passed through everything. Draco shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth to block the screech that threatened to pass through his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the pain faded. He was left trembling, eyes opening to see a different muggle street - this one with apartments lining it, instead of townhouses. Next to him, Harry was crouched down, hand hovering above his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay, Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” He stood, dusting off his pants uselessly. He was still shaking, but the pain was slowly becoming little more than a memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They began walking down the street, turning and stepping on the grass between No. 11 and No. 13. Draco followed, confused until they stopped in front of the wall, mimed opening a door, and...vanished. Okay, he could work with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took a deep breath, and passed through the wall to find an apartment on the other side, dark wallpaper and wizard trinkets. He felt no wards, which must have meant they didn’t register ghosts. He grinned, and turned to Harry. “So, whose house is this? Think you could stay here instead of your aunt’s place? It certainly seems much more...inviting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shot him a sharp look. “No, I am not living here. It’s the headquarters for the Order, not a hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. We’ll see,” he replied, holding his hands up in surrender. He looked around, observing the traditional decorating, and determined that it would be a much more suitable home than the current one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what happened last time Severus visited, Draco more than dreaded returning to the muggles’ house. He could only imagine the pain they would inflict on Harry this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus led them around the corner into a dining room, packed with people. Draco spotted the headmaster, a couple Weasleys, some guy from the Ministry - Shacklebolt? And Professor McGonagall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sat at an open seat, looking helplessly at Draco before turning back to the group. “Um...Is there a seat Draco could sit in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stand,” he forced out. A better vantage point anyway, since it would just be troublesome to focus on floating in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>position</span>
  </em>
  <span> of sitting but not actually getting to enjoy it. He hadn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>sat</span>
  </em>
  <span> since he died, fancy that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded, turning back to the group with a quick “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nevermind</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus sat down next to Dumbledore, and so began the most intense and confusing discussion of Draco’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need access to the Ministry Archives if we want to figure out how to fix this!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, after Dumbledore had once again shot down her request. She turned to Harry, her voice turning to molasses. “Harry, dear, please ask Draco if he wants to be unbonded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose while Harry floundered for an answer. “Molly, I’ve already told you, the Wizengamot will not allow that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> not for a Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “Says the man with half the Wizengamot seats to his name,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry started at that, looking up at him with confusion. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Anything he wanted, he could do. If something is being blocked by the Ministry, it’s because Dumbledore has decided not to implement it. He holds most of the power there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s he saying, Harry?” McGonagall asked, noting his murmur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Um, nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus focused his cold gaze on Harry, narrowing his eyes. “Stop getting distracted. We have things to discuss </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> than your delightful friendship with Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry flushed. “Right, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, you really should tell them. They could get you out of there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut it,” he muttered in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious! You could get hurt!” Draco threw his hands up in exasperation. “Why won’t you listen to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now is not the time to be having this conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have something to share, Mr. Potter?” Severus butted in, a small vindictive smile upon his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Now, William, please continue explaining your </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly important</span>
  </em>
  <span> thoughts on how this came to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahem, right. Good to know you value my research, Severus,” Bill said with a wink. “So, my specialty is in curse-breaking, although this does not seem to be specifically a curse, it does have some signs of one. Like Draco being bound to Harry, unable to touch things like other ghosts, and so on. All signs point to him not being a normal ghost. Either his relationship with Harry impeded his journey to the afterlife, or...his body may still be out there somewhere, in stasis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room broke into pandemonium. McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley both looked properly enraged on Draco’s behalf, Dumbledore began trying to soothe the women, Shacklebolt turned on Bill and began hammering him with questions, Harry sat there in thoughtful silence, and Severus...Severus betrayed no emotions. He was stone cold as a statue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouldn’t he have been happy there was a chance Draco could come back to life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should be ecstatic, jumping up and down with delight - or whatever way Severus expressed such an emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not whatever this still figure was in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was quiet, taking his invisibility for granted and staring directly at Severus, not even trying to hide it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why didn’t he care?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing he said was after everyone had calmed down, a quick business-like, “this will require much more research than previously anticipated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco felt let down. Brought to the brink of excitement, only to have the rug swept out from underneath his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore nodded sagely. “Agreed. Harry, I have a feeling this will take longer than the summer has to offer. So be prepared to come to school next term with Draco by your side. And, Draco? Do be aware, just because you are intangible does not excuse you from schoolwork. You will be expected to find a way to get it done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s mouth dropped open. “No fucking way! Harry, tell him I’m not doing that. I can’t even pick up a quill!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s right, Headmaster. Draco, I mean. He can’t even hold a quill or a wand, how could he be expected to complete his coursework?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dictation, of course! I’m sure there’s a reason the Lady Fate decided to put you two together, perhaps this is it. You do have wonderfully fast writing skills, after all, my boy,” Dumbledore said jovially.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>After that was out of the way, there seemed to be little else to talk about, and the meeting began wrapping up. Draco pulled Harry aside, eyes averted to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to...ask Dumbledore something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can he...can he find out if my mother is alright? I’m really worried about her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled softly, and nodded, turning to call out to Dumbledore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Harry my boy, what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco wanted to know if his mother is okay? Do you think you could find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore’s smile fell. “Ah. Unfortunately, we do not have the manpower to spare on a task as insignificant as that one. It could put the whole Order in jeopardy. Do let him know, though, and be nice about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s, uh, he’s right here, Headmaster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had never seen Dumbledore so shocked before. To be fair, the man rarely was. Draco let out a startled chuckle. Where had that come from? He felt strangely like there was a pit in his stomach, but at the same time, he wanted to laugh instead of cry. Was there something wrong with him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell, frankly. Could ghosts even be mentally ill? He didn’t think so. Perhaps he was just fucked up in the head before he died. That made sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, he nodded to himself. That made sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had looked at him as if he had grown two heads. Had he? Draco was fairly sure he still had one head, one neck, one spine, one mother...though if one was up for debate, perhaps all of them were.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even notice they were outside until he felt that familiar stabbing pain rocketing through his body. He couldn’t help but bask in the grounding pain, almost missing it as he faded back into numbness, and alighted the front stoop of No. 4 Privet Drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back to the house of ignorance he went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignorance of Wizarding culture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignorance of the thread looming on the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignorance of his mother’s whereabouts.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Early update! Again lol. I'm not very good at waiting oops. I wrote this in...four days? So that's pretty cool. I would have been able to spread it out more, but I've been studying like crazy for a bio exam. Also I'm almost out of notes, so after this I might begin flying by the seat of my pants. I know where the story is going to go, it's just the meat that I have issue with. </p><p>Once again, big thanks to my beta Mellow_cello!!!!</p><p>I expect the next chapter to be out, at the latest, by February 10th, though looking at the trend...it'll probably be a few days before. As I begin reaching my deadline, I end up just speed-writing everything and then feeling too guilty to wait so I just post it early.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco didn’t know how many days they had been back. It was all a blur to him. He could vaguely recall following listlessly after Harry into the muggle home, and the bedroom door locking. After that, though, he hadn’t moved. Which was odd. He expected to be pulled along whenever Harry left the room, like a less-painful version of Apparating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing that could mean was that Harry had not left his room at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was plausible, especially considering the cat flap in the door could provide food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought perhaps he had seen Harry at the desk a couple of times, a quill scratching on the parchment the only sound in the otherwise silent room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco, though, stayed at the foot of the bed staring at the wall numbly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t move from his spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like time was moving at a snail’s pace, but incredibly fast at the same time. Harry got up, showered, ate his breakfast from the cat flap, did homework, ate lunch, used the bathroom, killed time, did more homework, tidied his room for the umpteenth time, ate dinner, then went to bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sat at the end of the bed through all of this, the same worries cycling through his mind over and over. He did this for an innumerable amount of days before that uncomfortable tugging came in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated it, but he followed nonetheless, trailing after Harry as he did his daily chores. Draco hated the tugging feeling because it only brought more feelings, like a stinging in his tear ducts, and a tenseness in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It reminded him that his mother could be anywhere at that moment. There was nothing to do but imagine all of the horrible ways his mother might be suffering right now. He doubted she was safe - wishful thinking did nothing but cause more disappointment. She could be dead, or a personal servant of the Dark Lord to atone for her son’s transgressions, or hacked to pieces with a blasting spell, her intestines and blood on the wall, forever stuck in the small cracks. Her blood would stay there for years, drying and rotting the wood beneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wanted to throw up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed Harry out into the garden instead, standing under a sun he couldn’t feel and next to flowers he couldn’t smell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Harry flip pancakes he’d never be able to taste over a fire that couldn’t burn him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to protest, tell Harry to make a stand, but he didn’t have the energy. Even when he did, their arguments on this subject drained him. Draco was vulnerable enough to admit he didn’t know enough about the situation to properly appeal to Harry’s logical side. If he knew more, he could convince him that he would be better off away from there, could assure him that his relatives wouldn’t be able to go after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was just too tired, and he knew too little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even have the autonomy to protect his mother, like she had always protected him. He remembered once he had been attacked by the Manor’s peacocks. He had screeched in fear, and within a minute, his mother was there by his side, sheltering him from the birds’ wrath. She always knew what to do. Draco was completely at a loss right now. How could he think he could even protect Harry? He couldn’t possibly protect him. He couldn’t protect himself. Even in death, he was still vulnerable like an open wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco is finally snapped out of his trance one day by, ironically, a sharp slap to Harry’s face. He didn’t know what had caused it (he had been gazing out the window at the neat rows of petunias), but the sound of hand meeting flesh dragged his indifference away, leaving only the rawness he had been trying desperately to avoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stung, like he was in Harry’s ragged shoes himself, feeling his cheek begin to warm up in the shape of a handprint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whipped around from the window with a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt in weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco called out, breaths beginning to choke with unexpected sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry turned to him in shock, but quickly turned back to his uncle when the oaf barked, “eyes here, boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sir,” Harry murmured, and Draco watched on in barely-concealed horror as Harry was pulled by the bicep up the stairs, stumbling and tripping over each step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was startled into action by the tugging in his navel, the tears still freely flowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had to get there, had to find some way to stop the uncle. But there was nothing he could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless, he ran. He took the steps two at a time, not even registering the feeling of the carpet beneath his feet. He was too focused on getting to Harry in time, even if he couldn’t do anything, just sit there like last time offering words of stability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco flew through the open doorway, wiping quickly at his eyes to clear away the tears. This was no time for him to be vulnerable - he needed to be there for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was the uncle, standing over Harry, who had collapsed into a heap of gangly limbs on the floor. He had changed tactics. Before, his actions were more measured and controlled; an expression of pent-up anger. This time, though, he had had no time to stew and everything was let loose onto Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The uncle was kicking, mainly, at any body part he could reach: Harry’s gut, stomping on his fingers, whatever it took, it seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Draco was spurred into action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran straight at the man, fist coming back, uncaring at the fact that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> it would only pass through, that all his actions were ultimately useless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, it connected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His knuckles hit cheekbone and the uncle’s face twisted to the side from the force, spittle being sent flying. Draco panted, clutching his fist, marvelling at the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he could feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that split second, he had felt the man’s stubble, his cheekbone cracking under his fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhilarating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the moment faded, and reality crashed right into him. The uncle had begun yelling gibberish at Harry, words like “freak,” and “worthless,” mixed in. His anger distorted his words until Draco could barely tell what he was saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then his fist raised, and Draco knew what he had to do this time. He rushed in front of Harry, spreading his arms wide and yelling, “don’t touch him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it went straight through him, catching Harry by the temple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Useless! Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fight back, boy, you could be out on the streets like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Your freakishness had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no place</span>
  </em>
  <span> in my house, haven’t you learnt your lesson by now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco let his arms fall, coming up instead to rub at his eyes that had begun to sting once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing he could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was being dragged up by the collar to his bed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>to Draco’s spot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He lurched on unsteady feet after them, hiccupping as the tears began to take over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m - I’m sorry, Harry, I really am! I really tried, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He draped himself over Harry, shivering each time the uncle’s fist passed through his torso. It was unnerving, but the goosebumps it caused were the least of his problems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The uncle called Harry useless, but really, Draco was the one who was useless. There was nothing he could do in this situation. Eventually, the uncle grew tired, and they were locked in the room alone once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no sounds, except for Harry and Draco’s shaky breaths. He could still feel the burning behind his eyes, the tears that clogged his vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled to the side, their roles now switched; Draco at the head of the bed and Harry curled up at the foot of it. The popcorn ceiling above him was blurry, distorted into a mass of vague shapes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t do anything,” he whispered finally, voice catching with another sob. “I tried, I really tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there in silence, neither boy speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss my mother,” Draco murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Harry responded, though Draco knew it was for his sake more than it was his companion’s. Harry never really knew his parents; everyone knew the story. How could he miss something he never remembered?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, Draco nodded in acknowledgement. “My mother used to read me these stories, you know. Stories of great wizards and heroes who always saved the day. But my favorite was always her story of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Harry twitched slightly in surprise next to Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was this grand armchair we had, in the sitting room next to these coloured lights. It was a gaudy yellow, and didn’t fit at all. But for some reason, my mother never removed it. It was only ever used for storytime, when I would sit atop the arm and my mother would pull me in close and read whatever story we chose that day. It was...magical. And I do not use that word liberally, Harry. She told me all about you, how you defeated the Dark Lord when you were much much younger than me.” He sobered. “With all that she told me of you, I would never have imagined you had to go through such horrors here. You should be treated as a hero, to have no thought of the bare minimum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco turned to the side, meeting Harry’s tearful eyes with his own. Gray reflected in green, boy next to boy. “You deserve much more than this, Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It became a regular occurrence, the uncle’s beatings. Draco didn’t know what it was that set him off, and Harry refused to tell him. It must have been something bad, though, something that made Draco regret ever falling so far into a pit of self-wallowing that he couldn’t even pay attention to what was going on around him. The guilt plagued him; maybe if he had been more attentive, he would have been able to stop the initial incident. Instead, he waited until it had escalated much too far past his ability to deal with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regretted the past, yes, but he considered that in his future encounters too. Whenever the uncle got that </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his face, Draco tried his hardest to recreate what happened that first time. He summoned all his courage, conviction, and resentment, and did his best to land a punch on the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything, it never worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the initial attempts, he would give up and just lay beside Harry, telling him stories of his mother. How caring she was, her protectiveness, how once he was able to communicate with others he knew for sure she would whisk Harry away to his vacation home and dote on him like the mother he had never have. His mother, he said, would need someone to protect. She was likely feeling lost without Draco (or dead. But he didn’t mention that thought, the one that was constantly floating about his head), and Draco would make sure she turned her attention to Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco told him his mother would make sure Harry never returned to this dreadful place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Harry listened. Draco rambled for hours on end, just to drown out the sound of leather hitting flesh, and Harry actually listened to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished it wasn’t under such circumstances.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>One morning, Draco noticed a tapping at the bars on the window. Harry was still asleep, so he floated over to make sure it wasn’t hostile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, it was an owl. Not just any owl, though, Draco realised as he gaped. It was Headmaster Dumbledore’s personal owl, a highly recognisable and, frankly, massive Blakiston’s Fish owl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, he hesitated. It had been Dumbledore who told him that ensuring his mother’s safety was </span>
  <em>
    <span>a waste</span>
  </em>
  <span> of resources. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, he recalled the nights he had stayed up with Harry, checking and rechecking the barricade hastily pushed against the door, making sure his companion was as safe as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could have been important. If it was from Dumbledore...perhaps it was to tell him he had reconsidered! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hope sprouted prematurely, and Draco hurried over to Harry’s side. “Harry, wake up! You have a letter from Dumbledore!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry rolled over, groaning. “I can’t even get it...I’ll do it later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was confused for a moment, until he realised what Harry’s sleep-addled words meant. The bars. Right. He couldn’t even get the letter from his room, so they’d have to wait until Harry left for gardening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco settled back into his spot, looking sympathetically at the owl. Hopefully it was a patient one.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco, though, was nowhere close to being patient. He had known this his whole life: at Christmastime, when there were presents waiting for his grubby fingers below the tree, on his birthday, even getting grades back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To have the hope that his mother’s safety may be assured, or that Dumbledore had finally come to his senses and would be bringing Harry somewhere far away from his relatives’...well, whatever little patience Draco had left spontaneously vanished that morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry, it can be underdone just a little bit. I’m sure they won’t notice. You need to go read the letter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco,” he hissed under his breath. “But if I don’t do this right, it’ll just be worse for me later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There might not </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> a later! He could be picking you up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not,” Harry scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, in a way, he was right. Dumbledore was not picking them up. What he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing, though, was visiting in three days for some unknown reason. Harry needed to get his school supplies together in preparation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s heart sank when he read the words from over Harry’s shoulder. Of course. Why would he expect otherwise? He was dead. He didn’t matter anymore. His mother was the wife of a Death Eater. It was understandable, he told himself, that Dumbledore wouldn’t shelter her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t stop the resentment from festering, though, the previous numbness morphing into a burning rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could he do that to you! Not tell you anything except when to leave...that bastard probably wants to keep you on your toes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, the Headmaster is a great man. Besides, he probably isn’t even coming…should I even pack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Better not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The day Dumbledore was set to arrive, Draco was on edge. He paced back and forth in the room, glancing out at the driveway every couple seconds. He hovered behind Harry when he cooked breakfast, stood sentry while he gardened, and trailed along muttering about punctuality while he cleaned the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only at midnight that the Headmaster arrived. Draco was staring so intently out the window that he almost forgot to dodge the uncle barrelling past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boy! Your freak teacher is here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stood sharply, and Draco sucked in a breath. Finally, the man had arrived. They went to the door, and there he was, looking unchanged from when they had last seen him: at the Order meeting, where he told Draco that his mother wasn’t worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still wore the same half-moon spectacles, still had the same egregiously purple robe, still had that twinkle in his eye that Draco knew meant bad things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Harry, my boy! Good to see you. Are you ready to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry flinched. “Well, you see, I wasn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, quite alright! You can do that after. Do you happen to have tea? I would love a cup,” Dumbledore said cheerily, bustling his way inside with no mention of an invitation. The uncle looked positively horrified, and Draco tried to commit it to memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Petunia and the cousin came out of their respective hiding spots, both wearing looks identical to the uncle’s. “No, dad, you can’t possibly let him in!” The cousin whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know, Duddykins, I know. It won’t be too long. Just go back to bed.” She flashed the uncle a look. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> will be upstairs, getting ready for Harry’s departure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco knew that meant doing whatever she could to cover up the signs of abuse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course Headmaster. I’ll go brew one right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, good. Shall we adjourn to the sitting room, then? Come Vernon, you really must tell me about those drills. Do they really cut through stone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices faded as they departed, leaving Harry and Draco in the foyer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...his name is Vernon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gave a wry smile. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fits. He’s like a whale, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile turned more genuine. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Like he could hear anything I say. You want me to insult him to his face? I could do that. Just scream it right at him. He wouldn’t notice a thing,” Draco said, barking out a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t,” Harry whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When all the tea was heated, steeped, and prepared, Harry and Draco joined Dumbledore and Vernon in the sitting room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, perfect timing! We were just finishing up. Do remember to owl me one of those flyers, Vernon. I’d love to learn more about how they work.” Dumbledore turned to Harry, smile falling. “I’m afraid we must discuss more somber matters, now, though. Your godfather, in his will, left you his vault, Wizengamot seat, all the properties under his name; everything he had before he died is now yours. As you are still a minor in the eyes of the Ministry, I will preside over the Black Wizengamot seat as I have been for the Potter seat for over a decade now. Once you reach the age of majority, you will then have access to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded slightly at the onslaught of information, and Draco narrowed his eyes, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “be careful. That extra seat gives him even more political power. Anything he says he is unable to do, do not trust it. The Wizengamot has the most influence out of all the governing bodies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco straightened back up just in time to hear Vernon’s protest. “Why the hell are we still housing him? Surely one of you lot can take him for the time being, if he has all that property,” Vernon snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore looked grim. “Unfortunately, no. We ask that you allow him to return one more time next summer, in order for the protective magic upon your home to stay in place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Vernon balked. “You don’t mean to say there’s some...</span>
  <em>
    <span>spell</span>
  </em>
  <span> on my home!” He hissed the word as if it were a curse just to speak it. “I’ll have you know, Petunia and I gave no such permission for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not worry, it’s an innate spell, one that Harry’s mother cast on him upon her death. It simply shields him from harm until he reaches seventeen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s mouth fell open. Shield him from harm? Then what the hell were his beatings called? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Education</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vernon bristled, sufficiently cowed. “Fine, fine then. Ensure it is removed once that brat leaves, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course. Now, Harry, there is one more order of business we must attend to before our departure. Our...organisation is worried that the wards on Sirius’ property might block it from becoming acquired by anyone not within his family. Kreacher!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop</span>
  </em>
  <span> came from the middle of the room as a wrinkly house elf appeared in front of them. Draco didn’t recognise it, but he was sure that he wouldn’t have remembered had he met it before. Vernon lurched up, pointing wildly at it. “Get that thing out of my house!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore ignored him, turning to Harry. “Harry, my boy, I’d like to test something. Make an order, if you will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry fumbled for a moment, until Draco whispered, “just have him do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Kreacher, touch your toes, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house elf complied, bending in half to reach his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you very much, Kreacher, you are dismissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house elf disapparated with another </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, muttering about filthy mudbloods and blood traitors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, good!” Dumbledore clapped, standing from his seat. “There seem to be no complications with the house. How about you go pack, Harry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Harry flushed. “Ah, yes, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco followed Harry as he rushed upstairs, bustling around his room, shoving his meagre possessions into his trunk. “I’ll have to let Hedwig find me, I don’t know where she is right now, and I can do the practical homework when I get to Hogwarts…” Harry muttered, buckling his trunk as quickly as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down in the foyer, Dumbledore was waiting with a patient smile. “Well done, my boy, shall we head out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...let’s go…” Harry huffed, dragging his trunk down the stairs. As they were on their way out the door, Draco noticed Dumbledore lag behind, turning to face Vernon. “Harry is very precious to our world; you’d do well to treat him as such.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, they disapparated, leaving Draco to deal with the stabbing pain in his gut as he was dragged along.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>its a bit late by my standards but whatever. we're now getting into canon things!! which means the harry potter timeline site has become my new best friend lol</p><p>BIG THANKS ONCE MORE to my beta mellow_cello !! if u haven't already read her fic go read it it's way angstier than mine (i live for angst ok)</p><p>edit 02/11/21: the next chapter might take a bit longer to get out, as i have a lot of long-term school assignments to get done. i expect it'll be done by the 20th-25th :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco stood on the stoop of an unassuming muggle house, standing by as Dumbledore knocked. His peppy voice still rang in his ears, a “welcome to Budleigh Babberton! I’m quite certain this is where he is,” Dumbledore had said as they strode up the walk. Harry, as they ascended the stairs, had looked just about as lost as Draco felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are we looking for, Headmaster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dear, did I not say?” He said absently. “Horace Slughorn, our previous Potions’ Master before he retired. He’ll be taking the position back up this year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had heard of the man. Mainly from his father, who had said the professor was incredible for making connections. His “Slug Club” (aptly named, as Lucius had described them as “the most uninteresting meetings I’d ever attended.”) housed the most influential students of Hogwarts, and previous members would often visit, many of whom held positions of power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Professor Snape?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no need to worry my boy, you will learn all in good time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had a feeling he was getting tired of explaining - either that, or it was simply more information that Harry wasn’t yet privy to. Probably both, he wouldn’t put it past that conniving bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They waited a few moments, shifting awkwardly as time wore on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco drifted over to peek through one of the windows - no lights were on, so it was a bit hard to make out, but he was able to see several large shapes strewn about the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, I don’t think he’s home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he said that, though, Dumbledore cast a simple unlocking charm on the door and strode right in. “Come along, Harry, I’m sure he won’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard of Slughorn, he definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> mind,” Draco snorted next to Harry as they followed Dumbledore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry cast a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lumos</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and in the small light produced, Draco was able to see so much more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was an absolute mess. Tables and chairs uprooted, books lay upon the floor as though tossed with no care, lamps fallen on their sides; some were even shattered. There was a plate of moldy food in the corner, covered in hordes of foraging ants. There was blood on the walls that shined with a tint unique to dragons. It looked as though whoever was living there had left in a gruesome hurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t look like he’s here,” Draco whispered. “D’you think Dumbledore has the guts to admit he was wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grinned in success as he spotted Harry stifling a chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore, however, admitted no such miscalculation. He went further into the house, moving purposefully toward an overturned armchair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a hideous thing, both from pureblood </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> uncultured standards, Draco noticed, wrinkling his nose. It was stained, ripped, and frayed, with the pattern so faded that all that was left was a barf-green colour. Dear God, if Slughorn had taste </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad...Draco wasn’t sure he even wanted the man’s connections, no matter how useful they might be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that Dumbledore whipped out his wand, so quickly that Draco had to stop himself from shouting in surprise. He then...poked the armchair with it? Draco was about to make another snide comment to Harry when it transformed into a stout old man grumbling under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very nice to see you again too, Horace!” Dumbledore announced over the man’s mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, good to see you too, Albus. How did you know I was here?” He gestured around him. “I made it look perfect, exactly like I was taken by Death Eaters!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forgot the Dark Mark,” he said with a wink. “They always cast it in the sky after an attack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph. An oversight then. I’ll get it next time. Help me fix this, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two waved their wands, chanting complex Latin phrases, and slowly, the house repaired itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore turned to Slughorn, face grim. “I do hope there won’t be a next time. We are in need of a Potions’ teacher this year, if you would be willing to come out of retirement to help an old friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should have known you wanted something,” Slughorn said gruffly. “Hogwarts isn’t safe, especially for me. Unfortunately, I must decline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t like the look on Dumbledore’s face. Harry looked confused once more (when was he ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> confused?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I will go make sure the rest of the house is appropriately put back together,” Dumbledore said, passing through the doorway into the hall with a flick of his robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was silent for a moment, neither wanting to be the first one to speak. Draco stood next to Harry, looking between the two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you should really convince him. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> better than Severus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t know for sure, but anyone was better than his godfather who didn’t even care he was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard so many good things about Slughorn. He has so many connections. You could be set for life if you get in his good graces, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry remained silent, but eventually turned to Slughorn. “I would really appreciate it if you came to teach this year. If we can’t find a teacher, the Ministry might appoint someone themselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, yes, I heard about that. Dreadful woman, that Umbridge. Anyone would have been better than her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Draco chuckled, thinking back to second year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Harry my boy, did I tell you about your mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This got Harry’s attention. “No, you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I taught your parents, I hope you realise. Lily was my favorite student, always top of my class. She really should have been in my house, you know. Much like a Slytherin, that girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry balked. “A Slytherin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be a Gryffindor, then,” he laughed. “Fitting. Your father was the perfect Gryffindor. It’s no wonder you both turned out so similar!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco leaned away, bored out of his mind. “Haven’t you heard enough about your parents? Can’t we get this done and go? This place is still freaky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sent him a dirty look, but moved on. “So why won’t you teach at Hogwarts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s partly because if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> teach there, it could be seen as declaring allegiance to the Order. It greatly benefits me right now to be a bystander, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to join the Order,” Harry points out. “Not all teachers are members. Besides, Hogwarts is perfectly safe! Just having Dumbledore there is a big strength, plus, teachers are in no danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except Quirrel, he died first year. And Lockheart, he got his memory wiped. Oh, and Moody, who was kidnapped and replaced,” Draco listed off next to Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not helping</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Slughorn asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing,” Harry waved it off, flustered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was a bit proud to have put that look on his face. Just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Dumbledore came waltzing back into the room as if nothing had happened. It was obvious to Draco, though, that it was all part of his plan when he heaved a big sigh. “Are you sure there is nothing we can do to convince you, Horace? We really need you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I appreciate the flattery, I must decline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Harry, we must avoid the reporters if we want to get to our destination on time, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Slughorn hesitated in his resolve. “Reporters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” Dumbledore nodded. “Harry here has such a hard time, don’t you? Poor boy has been the target of the media ever since he joined us. Being a celebrity is such a hard life…” He trailed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was a bit appalled, honestly, at the blatant manipulation of this man. He was sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> could have been at least a bit more subtle if given the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, well, I suppose I could give it a shot. Might start my Slug Club back up again, too. You’ll join, won’t you, Harry my boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, yeah, sure,” Harry floundered, looking between Slughorn and Dumbledore.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As they were leaving, Draco filled Harry in on the ‘Slug Club’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what he calls these parties he holds for influential students. My father attended, of course. They’re mostly useless drivel, but once in a while he’ll host a big one where a ton of alumni attend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded absently, and Draco huffed in frustration. “Do listen to me when I’m talking to you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry, Draco. I’m just a bit worried. I don’t know where I’m going next, since Dumbledore didn’t mention anything about the Burrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shuddered. “I should hope not! Just because I’m not corporeal doesn’t mean I want to set foot anywhere near that hovel!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be rude. The Burrow is very nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you even call it that?” Draco asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was at that time that Dumbledore finally pitched in, having been watching Harry talk at the air with amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, you won’t be staying at the Burrow this summer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore cleared his throat awkwardly. “Due to...unfortunate circumstances, we need unrestricted access to your companion. You’re in even more danger than normal, and if anyone found out about Draco...let us just say you’re better off somewhere thoroughly warded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Harry. He’d been at his side all summer, and he knew how much seeing his friends meant to him, knew he’d been anticipating the day when he could leave and go back to a place of comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, where will we be going, then, Headmaster?” Harry said, words tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Severus will be housing you for the rest of the summer! He did insist, of course, said something about an intriguing situation. Worry not, you will be perfectly safe with him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco gaped, turning to Harry. “I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> we’re going to Severus’ house! He doesn’t let just anyone in there, you know. I myself have only been a handful of times. It’s much more of a hovel than you’d expect, so don’t get your hopes up. His house has </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the manor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, great…” Harry said in response to both of them. “Are you sure I can’t just go to the Burrow? I’m sure Molly could strengthen the wards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, with the Weasleys’ penchant for...shall we say </span>
  <em>
    <span>recklessness</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I do not believe that to be advisable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what about Grimmauld? Surely I could stay there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” Dumbledore chided. “You know as well as I do that Grimmauld is being used for the Order. You can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span> there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grimaced. “Sounds like he’s just making excuses at this point. Best just to humor the old man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked ashen.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They apparated to the front yard of a small cottage in the middle of a vast field. Draco whooped, rushing toward the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet he’ll be so happy to be able to talk to me again! It’s been a while since he visited, you know.” Of course, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> completely ignored Draco ever since he had died, but this was different; they weren’t in public. Surely Severus would feel comfortable enough to acknowledge him inside his own home? Maybe he was just worried someone might suspect something if he was seen talking to nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Draco ignored the voice in his head that insisted it was because his godfather didn’t care about him, not now that his weakness had finally gotten the better of him and sent him to his death)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry followed behind, slower, nodding in agreement. “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll be off now!” Dumbledore called out behind them. “Just knock, Severus should be home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he disapparated with a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, leaving us alone to fend for ourselves,” Draco grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grunted in acknowledgement, ascending the walk to knock on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d barely laid his fist upon the wood when the door swung open, revealing a well put-together Severus. Draco brightened. “Hey, Harry, tell him I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knows you’re here, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus gave a harrowing sigh. “Come in, both of you,” he said, glancing at Harry and a few meters to the left of where Draco actually was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside was exactly as Draco remembered. Minimal, tidy, and barely lived-in. There was the least possible amount of furniture, save for a bookshelf along a wall packed with tomes that seemed to be hundreds of years old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, one thing was different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before, Draco was the centre of attention. Severus had been focused on his godson, giving him the care a little boy craved. Now, though, he didn’t even make the effort to talk to him. He simply strode down the hall, pushing open a door into a freshly-dusted room, gesturing inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This will be your bedroom. The study and brewing room are off-limits. I will have breakfast prepared at eight am sharp, if you are late, you will have to figure out your meal yourself. Dinner is at six pm. Do not go past the gate outside, the boundary rests there. I assume I do not need to caution you against leaving the safety of the wards?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, sir,” Harry said, staring at the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stayed silent, hoping for his godfather to say something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anything changes with your situation, report it to me. The wards will alert me if you call out, but only use it in case of emergency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus stalked out of the room coldly, fulfilling exactly none of Draco’s expectations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry collapsed on the bed limply, laying splayed on the duvet. “This is going to be a horrible summer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco floated beside him with a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Better than your relatives’ though, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “True. But I was looking forward to going to the Burrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not me, I would rather die than go to that place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry started laughing. “Wait - so now that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead, you would?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No--I--what?” Draco didn’t even notice what he had said until it dawned on him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that was not on purpose. Stop laughing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that just made him laugh harder, teary-eyed full-bellied guffaws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco realised something, in that moment. He hadn’t seen Harry laugh like this since he had died. It was a good feeling, knowing something he said had caused Harry to react this way. Hell, he’d been trying his whole life to pull reactions out of him, even unconsciously. Had he never known this was even an option? Just...say something funny, and the job is done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was magical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry calmed down a few moments later, wiping his face free of happy tears. “I’m glad you’re here with me. It would’ve been much lonelier without you, Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t even be here in the first place if it wasn’t for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t--don’t say that. This isn’t your fault. It’s just...Dumbledore wants the best for me, and this is the way to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you see he’s manipulating you? Dumbledore is horrible!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just saying that because you still listen to that pureblood drivel, aren’t you?” Harry accused, narrowing his eyes. All traces of mirth were gone from the room, in its place a tense atmosphere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry. He--he must know what your relatives do to you! Yet he sends you back there, year after year, and for what? Some stupid blood ward? You know as well as I do that that’s complete bullshit. Normal wards do just fine, especially with a powerful wizard like Dumbledore operating them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Draco. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed. “Are you sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t know what you’re talking about? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who grew up with magic, I should think I know more about it than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’re lying! You just hate Dumbledore because he’s the only thing that stands in the way of your pathetic Dark Lord’s success!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco fell silent. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> changed...hadn’t he? He denied a man he feared greatly, suffered the consequences, and now was on the side of the light. That was more than enough, wasn’t it? He didn’t have to...proclaim his loyalty now or something, did he? Was there more to do? Prove he believed in the same things?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned, drifting over to the other side of the room. “Good to know that’s all you think of me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, Draco, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, you meant what you said. I get it. I’ll never be good enough, will I? I sacrifice my life for your cause, but somehow you still think I’m against you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not it,” came from behind him. Draco didn’t look back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what is it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Just in denial? Blaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> for </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> shitty situation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be off to bed, if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t even sleep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t mean I can’t try,” he said snootily, floating as sharply as possible over to the armchair in the corner. “You should too, Potter, it’s almost two am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco, will you just listen to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks. You said your piece. I know where I stand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t want him to be bad, alright? Is that what you want to hear? I don’t want everything I’ve gone through be because of someone I trust. I’m sorry I blamed you, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stared at the wall silently, curled up in the chair. He couldn’t even feel the leather underneath him. And it was his own damn fault, for denying the Dark Lord. Now he was stuck in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> shitty situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco, are you listening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard a soft sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep, Harry,” he grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of rustling covers was the only noise in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, just the crickets chirping outside for the rest of the night.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>GUESS WHO'S ON TIME DESPITE EXPECTATIONS (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧</p><p>That's right, it's me!!</p><p>IB has been kicking my ass, so I have no idea how I was able to throw this chapter together. It rly had to fight me the whole time huh (￢_￢;)</p><p>Big thanks as always to my amazing beta Mellow_cello!! I seriously could not have finished this without her presence reminding me to work on it lol (also she helped me start on my EE which is more big thanks bc that shit's HARD)</p><p>No idea how long the next chapter will take, since I have a feeling my workload is just gonna keep ramping up from now on. I am going to aim for the 30th, and I probably will make it, but keep your expectations low just in case lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HARRY POV TIME!! :D I said I was going to do a back-and-forth at the start, but most of my scenes required Draco insight, so it's unforunately been a while since we've seen Harry's perspective. ONCE AGAIN BIG THANKS TO MY BETA MELLOW_CELLO!! If you haven't already, go read her fics!</p><p>Also ;D early update technically. I got this out because I want the full ten days for the next one lol since February has so few days (wtf is up with that)</p><p>IB has calmed down! I wasn't able to work on this too much, so I wrote it over about...three days? I'm over halfway to my word count for the upcoming EE check in, so that's amazing!! I feel so productive ;3; This week has been pretty smooth sailing though, which is good.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry didn’t know how to help Draco. He regretted everything he said last night - it was in the heat of the moment, when he was at his most defensive. He brought up sore memories, something he and Draco had yet to really talk through. It was established that Draco was on the side of the light now, that much he could trust, but he still didn’t know much about everything going through his companion’s head. He could tell that Snape’s avoidance was bothering him, but Harry knew if he talked to Snape about it Draco would be pissed. He was the type to keep his insecurities deep, deep below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry woke up that morning to find Draco perched on an armchair, gaze blank. He did this sometimes, Harry had noticed, got distant - almost as if he was on another plane of existence. Which, to be fair, he was. It took Harry’s own intervention to snap him out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except this time, it took a little longer. This time, Harry could barely hear Draco’s muttering. Maybe being in this house brought back memories? He couldn’t recall if Draco had ever mentioned visiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their breakfast, a bit cold, greeted them in the kitchen. A bowl of oatmeal and a glass of juice. One set only. Harry didn’t see an issue, but apparently Draco did, because he sulked throughout the whole meal. Or maybe he was still mad about last night. He inquired as such, and Draco grunted a negative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, back to square one, then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, interpreting Draco’s moods took just about all the energy he had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry abruptly stood up. “Do you know if Snape keeps any berries in this house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked up from his brooding. “How should I know? It’s not like he pays attention to me, so when would I have gotten the chance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Got it, got it. You’re still on that. I’ll just look myself then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m still ‘on that,’” Draco snarled, air quotes punctuating his speech. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can’t get over my godfather </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignoring my very existence</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Draco. I get it,” he called behind him as he rifled through the fridge. It was sparse, with very few items - and no berries. Harry grumpily returned to his seat to pick at his bland oatmeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he cares about you, you know,” said Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, he sure does a great job of showing it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed. He couldn’t really argue with that; he wasn’t sure of his own words even as they left his mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did</span>
  </em>
  <span> Snape even care about Draco? Harry hadn’t heard much about him from Draco’s childhood stories, and he hadn’t even known they were godfather and godson before Draco’s death. Maybe this avoidance was Snape’s way of telling Draco he was wrong to think they were close, that he was only pretending to like him to avoid Voldemort’s wrath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe, Harry thought, he was just projecting his own insecurities on the situation. He’d never had anyone who truly loved him, not until Sirius - and even he left in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry and Draco spent the rest of the morning exploring the house. There was nothing to do besides that, or maybe homework (but Harry was putting it off - Snape had assigned the most summer work out of any of the teachers, and he had pages and pages to write. Better to procrastinate than spend his first day there doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>homework</span>
  </em>
  <span>).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco knew his way around, so Harry let him lead. It was surprisingly domestic, peeking into each room and theorising about from where various knicknacks originated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bare bones tour from the night before did the building no justice. There were books in the library that looked ancient, falling apart at the seams. Harry scanned the spines of some of them, picking out ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Curses and Conundrums: A Complete Anthology</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Rise and Fall of the Goblins</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, and, curiously, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Madame Greyson’s Guide to Household Spells</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. He moved on, trailing his finger along a side table. Despite what the front room projected, the rest of the house had some life to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco seemed engrossed in a tapestry that looked oddly similar to Sirius’. Harry wandered over, peering at the text over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t very large.” He said abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gah</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Draco flinched, shying away from Harry’s presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “Sorry to scare you. You looked really into that, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco glanced back to the tapestry. “Yeah. The odd thing about it is it looks really new. Compared to my family’s. I had always thought Severus’ family was...at least a bit as old as mine. Turns out it’s not. See here?” He pointed to a branch right by the top, one that led to nothing. “That’s Severus’ father. There is, oddly, no family connection at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you mean like inbreeding?” Harry asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Draco rolled his eyes. “I mean, there’s no family listed for his father </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not even a footnote.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, that does happen sometimes,” Harry eyed the tapestry a bit closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for pureblood families. Unless the spouse is a muggle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so his dad is a muggle then.” Harry turned back to the bookshelf, pulling out a book titled ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Perilous Potions for the Medically Inclined’.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He held it up to Draco, waving it enticingly. “Want to read this? I’ll turn the pages for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s a big deal that his dad is a muggle. My father must not have known, or else he would have never associated with a half-blood like him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…? Do you want to read the book or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked at him for a moment, then relented. “Fine. Table of Contents, then, hurry up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to regret offering, aren’t I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Draco grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed holed up in the library for the rest of the morning, rifling through Snape’s collection of books. Most of them were mind-numbingly boring for Harry, but at least Draco seemed entertained. That was the first time since they arrived that Harry had seen Draco so happy (he and Hermione would get along well - Harry couldn’t stand the educational books). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, that all faded at lunch, with Snape’s return. They had assumed he was working, either in his laboratory or study, and it was going to stay that way all day. Unfortunately, they were wrong, and Harry walked into the kitchen at noon to find Snape sitting at the table, a sandwich in one hand and a quill in the other. It was hovering over a scroll with the smallest text Harry had ever seen; he couldn’t quite make out what it said, but he theorised it was a lesson plan - no doubt outlining all the ways the man could make Gryffindors’ lives hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image, however, of the feared Snape sitting casually at a table eating a sandwich was too hilarious to ignore. A chuckle bubbled up inside him, one he was hoping to hide, but to no avail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco and Snape sent him identical sharp looks, which set him off into a stronger fit of laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something amiss, Mr. Potter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, sorry. I just...it’s so weird to see you looking like...that!” Harry gestured to all of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape set the quill down, pinning him with that same calculating gaze. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> human, believe it or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I get it,” he waved it off, moving over to the counter to fix himself a sandwich as well. “You need sustenance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Mr. Potter. Demons need to stay alive, do they not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nearly dropped his knife. He heard a gasp from Draco (he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad). “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Demons</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape looked at him like he was stupid. “It was a joke, Mr. Potter, do try to improve on social cues.” He picked his quill back up, dipping it in ink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Harry fumed indignantly. “I just -- you </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> joke around!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape snorted. “Maybe if you paid more attention in my class, you might notice more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco piped up from behind Harry. “It’s true, though it takes a bit of deciphering most times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Draco</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape’s face soured, and he turned back to his parchment and began rolling it up. “Do excuse me,” he said, clearing his throat. “I have matters to attend to.” He stood, nodding at Harry in acknowledgement. “Feel free to add more to that sandwich of yours if needed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry startled, attention brought back to the food he was preparing. Right. He glanced over at Draco once Snape had left the room, noting the crestfallen look on his face. Harry’s gaze softened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry ate his sandwich in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he was washing his utensils, an idea came to him. “Do you want to head outside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to perk Draco up, at least a little bit. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry hesitated for a moment, before rooting around in a drawer for a self-inking quill to write a quick message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco noticed, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t care, just leave it, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be just a second,” Harry decided to ignore the jab at Snape - it was plainly obvious how Draco was feeling, no need to start another argument.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco huffed, but stayed silent as Harry fished one out and scribbled a quick ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>In the yard</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ for Snape.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, the air was fresh and breezy. Harry could almost taste salt on his tongue, which was odd - he didn’t take Snape to be the type of person to prefer a house by the water. Of course, he also hadn’t taken Snape to be the type to </span>
  <em>
    <span>eat a sandwich</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so the expectations were pretty low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco seemed happy, though. Maybe the open field was good for him. Harry continued down the path, gravel crunching under his trainers. Beside him, Draco floated leisurely along, every so often giving a heavy sigh of contentment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry kicked a small stone. “So. Did you notice the sea breeze?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I can’t smell anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right. Forgot. It’s weird to think of Snape having a house this close to the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hummed. “Yeah, I found it odd too when I was little. You’d think he’d have a brooding house painted black, smack dab in the middle of some creepy forest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, with curtains that move on their own and a lone rocking chair on the porch,” Harry joined in with a chuckle. “Not a...is that a </span>
  <em>
    <span>garden</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He gasped, pointing out a small mesh-covered box on the side of the house. “Are those carrots?” Harry squinted, stepping off the path to investigate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rushed ahead, calling an affirmative. “Yep, those are carrots. I wonder what he uses those for. Think he just eats them raw?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a rabbit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would a rabbit eat a carrot?” Draco scrunched up his face in thought. “Aren’t those bad for them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yeah, it’s just from a show that muggles watch. There’s a bunny in it who always munches on carrots, so now people think that’s what rabbits eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They curved around the perimeter of the house, Harry pointing out the overgrown nature of the grass (“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Seriously, he could just use a cutting charm! Why would he let them grow out like this?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”), and Draco giving context for each protest he made (“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s never home, why would he care how the grass looks? Also, it’s meant to be like that, it’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>wild</span>
  <em>
    <span> grass</span>
  </em>
  <span>”).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun slowly made its way across the sky as the two boys wandered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice to exist without worries, in that small portion of time. The pressure that had been exercised upon them since Draco’s death was finally letting up, finally giving them room to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gazed at the sky, wishing he could be up there, dashing across it on his broom. He would ask Snape for permission, but Draco might feel left out. He didn’t know what flying as a ghost was like, but he was sure it wasn’t the same. It would be rude of him to rub in Draco’s face what he physically couldn’t do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was at his side still, keeping an easy pace with his wildly jumping thoughts. Harry laid down in a clearing of (surprisingly) cut grass, fiddling with a sprig between his fingers. Draco mimicked him, and they both watched the clouds move slowly by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think is special about you?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In general? Well, my good looks, of course. They’re both unique and incredibly attractive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant, you dolt,” Harry reached out to lightly punch him before thinking better of even attempting it, and instead slamming a fist playfully into the grass. “Like, what was so special about you that bound you to me? Did some god out there just decide, ‘hey, these two people hate each other, let’s make them spend eternity together!’ Of course, we proved them wrong,” he snickered. “As soon as we were alone together we stopped hating each other. Fancy that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost like I had already asked you to be my friend in the past.” Harry could almost hear Draco’s eyes rolling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were a dick back then! Still are, but at least you’re less...waxy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waxy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you lathered that shit on your hair like it was going out of fashion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco laughed. “That’s true, I went through </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> many bottles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, seriously. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> were you stuck with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno,” Draco shrugged. “I’m no expert on ghost science…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, well, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been in my thoughts </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> before I died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you’re just fantasising about this ass </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No, it’s not that. I always looked up to you, and when I realised that what my father was doing was wrong...I asked myself over and over...what would you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughed. “Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you were so blatantly Gryffindorish before your death? Trying to channel your inner </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A faint flush covered Draco’s face. “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that couldn’t have been it. I’m sure a ton of people die thinking really hard about someone. They don’t all turn into ghosts bound to that person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, I dunno. It could’ve been a combination of things. It could’ve been what that Weasley said, that my...my body is still alive out there somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so,” Harry offered, a small smile spreading his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered the house to find dinner already on the table, the smell of soup wafting through the halls. Harry hadn’t had a proper home cooked meal in over a year - not since he had been living under the same roof as Molly. Safe to say, his expectations were high despite it being </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snape</span>
  </em>
  <span> who was involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It certainly smelled good, and Harry took a seat opposite Snape at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, chicken soup, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Snape. “I hope it is to your liking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry took a spoonful of soup, chewing the finely chopped carrots. “Yeah, it’s pretty good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape raised an eyebrow. “Only pretty good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s a bit bland. Not much flavour…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. I was hoping to rectify that by dinner, but unfortunately, I was not able to find the time. You have experienced Albus’ propensity for...last-minute plans, have you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “Yeah, he does that all the time. It’s the worst, because I never know what’s going to happen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree. I only heard you were coming to stay with me several hours before you arrived. I was unprepared for guests, and have yet to go shopping. Suffice to say, your...desire for more interesting food has been noted, and I will take it into consideration on my next outing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Draco scoffed. “Oh, sure, because Harry matters </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Poor Harry, still alive and well unlike your godson, needs better food,” he mocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Draco</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Harry hissed, almost forgetting for a moment that Snape couldn’t hear his companion. He turned back to Snape, expecting a disapproving look, but instead found him looking constipated, as though he had swallowed something extremely unpleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry hoped this was because he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, not anything to do with Draco. He cast a glance at him, before turning back. “Draco was just saying how he’s...glad I’ll be getting good meals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, gaze averted. “I will make sure of it, Mr. Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he began awkwardly, “what were you doing all day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Preparing potions for the Hospital Wing - the long break of summer tends to deplete the stores as stasis charms only last so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s cool - hey, Draco, weren’t you looking at his book on medicinal potions earlier?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked startled to be included, and nodded vaguely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry turned back to Snape. “He says yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is...good to hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want to...ask him questions? Why he’s interested? Maybe find out how he’s been doing?” Harry pressed further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m quite alright, Mr. Potter,” said Snape forcefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop trying, Harry. It’s obvious he doesn’t care about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true!” He whispered. “I’m sure it’s just…” Harry trailed off, seeing Snape staring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mind me, I will just continue eating my...soup,” said Snape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? He really wants to talk to you, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Draco screeched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, okay! He does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to talk to you, apparently,” Harry amended his statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry groaned, shoving another spoonful of chicken, celery, and carrot in his mouth. “You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if you both stopped being such stubborn pr--people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Potter, glad to see you are making an effort to contain your language. Do remember I am still your professor,” Snape said bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, of course. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape stood, folding his napkin to the side. “If that is all, I do believe I am finished. Shall I take your bowl, Mr. Potter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gaped. “I thought I was doing the dishes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Though you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be living here for the time being and will be expected to clean up after yourself, I certainly will not make my guest do the dishes on his first evening here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Harry corrected himself quickly. “It’s just...I’m used to doing them, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape exhaled sharply. “Good that the Golden Boy is getting some lessons on humility,” he muttered under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pretended he hadn’t heard it, instead gathering up several dishes to tote to the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco, on the other hand, reared up behind him, snarling something unintelligible at Snape. Harry wished he could kick him, but he settled for a quick hissed “calm down, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry felt bad leaving the dishes for Snape to do, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been told not to do them, so surely it would be alright?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hovered in the doorway though, wringing his hands, at least until Snape eyed him snidely in an unspoken message to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry spied the textbooks he had haphazardly stuffed into his trunk as he entered his room tiredly, before pulling one out to study. Draco sat silently in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither talked for the rest of the night, except for the perfunctory “good night” from each of them.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next: Ron and Hermione!! And also OWL results :D Stay tuned!! (next chapter will probably released on/before the 10th of March - though like always, take it with a grain of salt, especially this time, as my EE check in due date is the 11th and I have a lab due the 12th sooo :/ BUT knowing me I'll probably get it done anyways bc ily all &lt;3)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>early update!! enjoy everyone &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next day came, and with it, a visit from two people Harry hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. He got no warning once again, only a small comment from Snape that morning at breakfast to be careful not to disturb him while his friends visited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nearly dropped his spoon in surprise. “They’re coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked just as shocked, glancing between Harry and Snape rapidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I was under the impression you were aware. I’m sure you won’t be expected to cut off all contact.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry flushed. “That - that is true. I just...didn’t expect them so soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, I’ve found that Albus works in mysterious ways,” Snape sniffed haughtily. He was obviously miffed he had been left out of the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hovered nervously. “Are you going to tell them? You know...about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kind of have to, Draco, you’re the whole reason I’m staying here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, that’s true,” Draco faltered. Harry eyed him suspiciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape excused himself from the table, as it was evident that Harry had begun talking to Draco fully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing, you should enjoy your time with them,” Draco said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will, but...what about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was dubious, but he continued his breakfast anyway - if Draco wanted to be stubborn, that was his fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His friends arrived a couple hours later, accompanied by Kingsley. Harry stood on the stoop, waving vigorously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ron! Hermione! Over here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mate!” Ron ran over and embraced Harry, who practically melted in his arms. It had been so long since he had been held - though Draco offered comfort when he needed it, there was a physical aspect he just didn’t get from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kingsley gave a nod when the two separated. “Have a good time Granger, Weasley, I will be back at sundown to take you back.” With that, he apparated away with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Harry, it’s so good to see you! And you’re so lucky too, to be living with Professor Snape. I bet you’re learning so much, I’m jealous,” Hermione chattered as she walked over to him. “I wish </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>could live here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead, I’ll gladly switch,” Harry laughed. “I’d rather be at Grimmauld Place with you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron wrinkled his nose. “No you wouldn’t. It’s the worst, everyone is so uptight and freaked out. It’s like a madhouse every damn day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could imagine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here anyway? You’re, like, really important to the resistance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t question it, Ron! It’s amazing just to be able to have complete access to any Potions study material.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t, I’m not even allowed in his study or laboratory. Besides...you should question it. Actually, I have something to tell you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry led them to his room, gesturing for them to sit on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on, mate? Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, nothing’s wrong - well, kind of. You know how Malfoy’s dad is in Azkaban?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, didn’t stay there for long, though. I heard he made a couple deals, and bam, was free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Draco screeched from behind him, and Harry flinched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? How long was he locked up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A week at most.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This kind of bureaucratic manipulation is terrible. The Ministry needs to take measures to prevent it,” Hermione piped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry</span>
  </em>
  <span> you dick, don’t ignore me! Did you know about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I didn’t, now shut up for just one second, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Both of his friends stared at him like he was crazy. He must’ve looked it, talking to an invisible person as he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just, all of you shut up, and let me explain. Draco -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco? When did </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen? Have you been in contact with that prat?” Ron gaped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I have. He died, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy’s dead?” Ron’s eyes widened. “Serves him right, he’s been a dick to you for years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No. No, that’s horrible, Ron, don’t say that,” Harry spluttered, looking over at a despondent Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So is that why you’re living with Professor Snape, Harry? Because...Malfoy is dead? I mean I don’t see the logic, but Headmaster Dumbledore must have his reasons,” Hermione muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because,” Harry took a deep breath. “Well, for some reason, Draco showed up at my relatives’ house. As a ghost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, he’s a ghost? But why is he with you? Shouldn’t he be at Hogwarts? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he here right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Ron whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, he’s here right now. Thanks a lot for saying that shit about him, really nice, Ron. We don’t know why he’s stuck here with me, that’s why we have to stay with Snape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione seemed so out of it that she didn’t even correct him for not adding the honorific. Ron, on the other hand, was looking more and more disgusted by the minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was quiet in the corner, not making eye contact. He looked to be deep in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He literally can’t leave me. We have to be in the same room at all times, or else he gets basically dragged along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even in the bathroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you’re worried about, Ron? No, he’s always polite and looks away. Unlike </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> people, Draco has manners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rude,” Ron whines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione had stars in her eyes. “Oh my, this is amazing! Well, not that he’s dead of course, quite unfortunate, that. But the </span>
  <em>
    <span>potential</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I wonder why he’s bound to you instead of the place he died. Odd, isn’t it? Oh dear, I wonder if I’ll be able to access the right books on this in the library. Surely they’re in the restricted section. You think Professor Snape will be able to give me provisional access?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure. You could try asking him,” Harry shrugged. “But the whole Order should be working on figuring this out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron stiffened in realisation. “So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why it’s been so crazy! Mum hasn’t let us into a meeting in a while, it must be because of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione frowned. “This must be incredibly hard on Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mind me, just having an existential crisis over here,” Draco pipes up raggedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry glanced over. He knew the news that his father was out of prison was a shock, and he wondered if Draco was regretting betraying Voldemort, since his whole worry was easily solved with a bit of political bribery. “You good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not really. Good to know your friends appreciate my presence, by the way. Hey, so now that we know my death was entirely pointless, think I could just move on properly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t!” Harry gasped. “You’re indispensable. Even if you aren’t doing anything right now, you’ve been a...big help to me,” Harry whispered. He didn’t want his friends knowing the extent of how his relatives treated him, and he tried to avoid any hints that could direct them to speculation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Ron’s only response was a fake gag. “Gross. It’s so weird to see you talking to the air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be nice, Ron,” Hermione lightly slapped his arm. “Malfoy has been through a lot! The least we could do is make him feel welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s not,” Ron muttered under his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could be doing more,” sighed Draco. “I was able to touch him, that time. But I haven’t managed to do it again. I feel so useless right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had a feeling Draco wouldn’t be saying all this if his friends could hear him - as it was, anything he said stayed between the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron leaned over to Harry. “Is Malfoy...you know...trustworthy? We’ve said a lot of pretty classified stuff since we got here,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, he’s fine. He’s on our side now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked uncomfortable. “Are you...are you sure, Harry? How do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry diverted his gaze. “I don’t think it’s up to me to tell. Sorry guys, I trust you, but I’m not sure Draco’s ready yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione didn’t look quite like she believed him, but she quickly changed the subject. “Oh! That reminds me, our O.W.L.s came! Have you gotten yours, Harry? You know you’re screwed if you failed, you might have to repeat it this year, which means you’ll be behind for your N.E.W.T.s and then you’ll be behind for graduation, then for your whole career!” Hermione rambled, pulling out a couple envelopes from her satchel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no, I haven’t. I haven’t received any mail in a while, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione didn’t seem to notice his response. “I wasn’t quite satisfied with my grades. I almost failed Divination. Divination! Can you believe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck having a conversation with a walking library, Harry,” Draco snorted from the corner. Harry sent him the stink eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione continued. “And Ron, don’t think you’re off the hook for your grades either! I hold myself to a high standard that, really, you should be striving for as well! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Average</span>
  </em>
  <span> grades, Ron, </span>
  <em>
    <span>average</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You barely got </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> Outstandings. That means you aren’t outstanding!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, shove off Hermione, you know grades don’t matter as long as I passed. I don’t need high marks to be an Auror, they just have to be good enough to get in the training program,” Ron groaned, flopping back onto the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are mine, though...” Harry mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably with Dumbledore, the old coot,” Draco said cooly, his earlier crisis seemingly forgotten (though Harry knew this wasn’t true. He could see the way he stood tensely, held his hands together tightly). “I bet he’s going to use this being a safe house as an excuse. No mail allowed, there could be tracking charms! The horror! Harry, dear, I simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> take each and every one of your correspondences and read them like the manipulative old man I am,” Draco crowed, his voice turning mocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe Snape knows where they are? He has to, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but he told me not to bother him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I say bug him anyways, mate. The greasy git deserves it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, since you’re obviously best friends now,” Draco snarked. “I’m sure he’d tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry blanched. “What? No, we’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure seems like it. He talked to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> more than he does me, his own godson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t talking about this right now, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried</span>
  </em>
  <span> to help you last night and you refused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I don’t need your damn help! I can talk to him myself, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Because last I checked, you literally can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione stood, shoving herself in front of Harry. “Whatever argument you’re having, it can wait.” She pointed to the door. “Go ask him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry huffed, but left despite his protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Snape was nowhere to be found. He knocked on both the study and laboratory doors, and even searched the whole house, Draco trailing behind sullenly. Harry knew his friends were discussing the new revelations back in his room, but he couldn’t bring himself to care - they were just going to do it when they got back to Grimmauld anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry returned to find them staring at him guiltily; it seemed his suspicions were correct. He closed the door behind him, falling onto the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t find him. I dunno where he went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheer up, mate. Any building without Snape is a good one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor</span>
  </em>
  <span> Snape, Ronald.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked supremely uncomfortable. “Want to study?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three boys groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No more studying. I’m sick of it. This is supposed to be a vacation, Hermione, not more school!” said an exasperated Ron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, then what do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron grinned. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> are going to take advantage of this empty house!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Ron,” said Harry. “I’m not making trouble, I don’t want Snape to kick me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Ron droned. “Who said anything about trouble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape returned later toting several bags of groceries in his arms and a couple floating behind him, startling Harry from his spot on the floor. They had rooted around in the cabinets until they found dice and items they could use as counters, the three of them playing some form of board game (without the board). Harry felt bad, seeing as Draco couldn’t play, but he eventually got so absorbed that he forgot about the ghost’s presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he noticed his host’s return, though, Harry sprang up. “Let me help you with that, Professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape waved his wand and the groceries floated out of Harry’s grasp. “Nonsense. You stay with your friends, I will take care of this. I would not be a good host if I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sat down hesitantly. “Okay, but if there’s anything I can do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am aware, Potter, of your inclination to assist me. However, I do not require it,” sighed Snape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind him, Draco finally piped up. “Aw, Harry, such a nice guest. Want to tuck him into bed, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, will you? I just wanted to help,” Harry snarked back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mate? You good?” Ron glanced around. “Is Malfoy fucking with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron and Hermione looked skeptical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco scoffed from his spot in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As time passed, the room slowly began to fill with a savory scent. Harry was able to make out onions, and maybe some kind of herbs. It smelled heavenly, especially compared to last night’s meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food itself certainly lived up to expectations. Harry sat at the table later, bracketed on either side by Ron and Hermione, Snape across from them. He hesitated a moment, glancing up at Snape before digging in. It was much more interesting than the past meals he had had, and though he wasn’t picky (he couldn’t be, not with the way the Dursleys limited what he had access to), he couldn’t help but appreciate the improvement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron began shovelling food in his face as well, though Hermione sat still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will Malfoy be eating, too?” She asked, glancing around the table, looking for another place setting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape paused in his subdued eating. “Miss Granger, must you always insist in refusing to use your head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flushed. “I just - I feel bad leaving him out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He cannot eat. Therefore, I will not cook for him. You, on the other hand, are allowing your food to grow cold while you sit here arguing with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione squeaked. “Sorry, Professor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, stealing a look at Draco, who was sitting atop the counter looking bored. He couldn’t imagine how this must feel for him, such a stark difference from how he used to be. Unable to smell, taste, touch, or even eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been horrible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t want to make a scene, but outrage stewed nonetheless. It was hard enough for Draco to deal with his own death, but now Snape is making him deal with his own godfather turning his back on him? Harry chewed furiously, the food now tasting like sandpaper in his mouth. He hadn’t expected much from the man, their own tumultuous relationship tainting his perspective, but he could at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>acknowledge</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco’s presence. Instead, he acted like he wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t talk much, his own annoyance stopping him every time he tried to join the conversation. There wasn’t much holding him back but the knowledge that if he blew up at Snape, his friends would have to witness whatever fight came after. The minimal restraint he possessed was coming in handy for once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the clinking of silverware, Hermione cleared her throat. “So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stabbed his fork into his salad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape sighed. “What is it, Miss Granger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just...trying to make conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron snorted. “Doing a pisspoor job of it, you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Language, Mr. Weasley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shoved a couple leaves into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Sorry, Professor. Well, uh, how’s it been here, Harry?” Ron asked, turning to Harry beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry took a deep breath. He had to stay calm. No blowing up, or else he might get kicked out. If that happened, he didn’t know what he’d do. He might be sent back to the Dursleys’, God forbid. “It’s been good,” he said stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape eyed him suspiciously. “Oh, come now, Mr. Potter. I’ve not been the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>welcoming</span>
  </em>
  <span> of hosts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> true. It’s been...okay,” said Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked, cupping a palm over his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? Oh, no, do you have a fever? Sore throat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, stop it ‘Mione, I’m fine, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drew back, turning back to her food. “Alright, I was just worried. No need to get snappy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grumbled and stabbed another bunch of leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron glanced between them. “Well...how has your day been, Professor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry knew it was tense when Ron willingly engaged in conversation with Snape. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he was growing more and more angry with the man by the minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tuned the conversation out as he heard the sound of Draco’s cough from behind him. “It’s fine, Harry. I’m fine. Don’t get angry on my behalf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Years of being able to know exactly which buttons to push to rile each other up had somehow translated into Draco knowing exactly what was getting Harry worked up. It was inhuman, how he hit the issue spot on. And his interjection did nothing to soothe his anger, only made it more vivid - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Draco</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt the need to comfort him, something he only did when Harry had the strongest emotions. He knew he was justified in feeling this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only logical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry kept a tight grip on his silverware all throughout dinner, focusing more on that than his friends - which he did feel bad about, but couldn’t bring himself to care. His anger was simmering just under the surface, and anything could make it boil over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he stayed quiet, and soon enough, it was time for them to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gave them a tense smile at the door, it just being the three of them (plus Draco) again. “Sorry I’m so out of it. I realised I need to have a conversation with Snape, and I just can’t focus on much else right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry mate, I just hope he doesn’t kill you,” Ron joked, before turning white. “Uh, no offense, Malfoy, wherever you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco glanced over, uninterested. “Tell him I don’t give a shit what he says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Ron, he doesn’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just be sure to outline your argument carefully and clearly,” Hermione chided, while Ron snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t hurt to remind him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay guys, thanks. I really appreciate it,” said Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, mate, we’re always here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smiled. “What he said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all clung to each other in a hug, Harry savouring the skinship while it lasted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Kingsley apparated in, nodding to Harry. “Good evening, Mr. Potter. I hope the night went well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kingsley looked a bit disgruntled at the response. “Well, I hope the next one ends on a better note.” With that, he took Ron and Hermione’s hands, and left with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Harry was alone with an irate Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to God if you tell him I feel ‘neglected’, I will make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> you join me in whatever the hell this limbo is.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this was a bitch to write lol. big thanks to my beta mellow_cello once again!!</p><p>in other news, i finished my first EE check in a week early!! woo!! this has been a great week on the topic of schoolwork, it's slowly been petering off so i have more time to chill :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had to rewrite a whole portion of this last-second because I just wasn't feeling how it was before, so that's why it's /technically/ late. Only technically, though.</p><p>ALSO happy 4k views!!! Thank you all so much for the support, it really keeps me going &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Severus Snape was not an emotional man. He had his moments, yes, but those were contained to the most private of times, locked away behind closed doors. Throughout the years of his raising, any expression of dissent was severely punished. His father enforced his strict ruling, and that meant no backtalk, crying, or anything of the sort. Everything was bottled up, and it carried on into adulthood. He allowed himself few emotions, limited to variations of distaste and malice, emotions that his own father expressed to him. Severus had found them to be particularly useful against disrespectful students.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, when his friendship with Lucius had resulted in </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> being named Draco’s godfather, he found himself overcome with joy. He refused to let it show on his face, his pride much stronger than that, but he let his actions speak for themselves: all the days spent voluntarily babysitting, every pat on the back and patching of wounds. He doted on the boy, as much as one could call Severus doting. It was against his nature, maybe, to even do so in the first place, yet he persisted until it became the norm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus was a staple in his godson’s young life; from birthdays, to afternoon visits, to the classroom. He knew the path Lucius was leading him down, and regretfully, did nothing to stop it. He valued his position as a double agent greatly, his debt to Albus taking priority over what seemed to be nothing more than bad life choices. Yet, with each slur he refused to punish, each bullying tactic to which he turned a blind eye, the regret grew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus, now, wished he had done something to stop it. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, and in this instance, it made all the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The death of his godson was...overwhelmingly upsetting for him. He could say with complete confidence that he had never experienced grief strong as he had the day he found out. Lucius had just been released from Azkaban, no doubt due to political meddling on his part, and had heard the news from Voldemort. The man was beside himself with sorrow and hatred - the son he raised betrayed every value he had taught, but it was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>his son</span>
  </em>
  <span> who was dead. Severus was one of the first people Lucius firecalled, and the hours afterward were spent in tense silence, barely moving as he stared listlessly at the ashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was only broken out of his stupor by the sharp tapping at his window, Potter’s owl impatiently clutching a letter in her talons. It was whiplash, to hear two separate sides to what happened, both with different outcomes. He felt relief flow through him as he learned of Draco’s ghostly form, but also a strained feeling in his chest. He had only just found out of his godson’s death, and to know he was there but just out of reach was...disappointing, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to feel, so he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He did what he always had, and ignored his problems - in this case, Draco. Expressing his conflict and grief was so against his character that he had no idea how to even do it. This ended up backfiring, he realised, as Potter came storming into the kitchen after seeing his friends off, a determined look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus put down the plate he had been drying, waving his wand to halt the others. Potter fell into the chair at the kitchen table as though he owned it, sitting roughly down with little care for the workmanship. Severus eyed him distastefully, turning to him with a weary expression. “Well? Spit it out, Mr. Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy leaned forward, gaze trained on Severus. “What’s your issue with Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed he was getting straight to the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no issue with him,” Severus said coldly. There was no way he was spilling his...</span>
  <em>
    <span>mess</span>
  </em>
  <span> of emotions to this child, let alone one that reminded him every day of his past failures as both a godfather and friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me. Every time I bring him up, you shut down! It’s like you don’t care about him or something! Hell, you’re doing it right now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Language</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Severus snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter scoffed. “That doesn’t matter right now, this is a serious conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not forget, Potter, that I am your Professor, no matter the setting. I require respect from you, as you are under my care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give you respect when you tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you hate Draco!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> a mere sixteen-year-old boy is the highest authority on interpreting my emotions.” Severus did not </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco - far from it. He had loved the boy, loved him with all his heart, and would have done anything for him. Potter was mistaken - he did not hate Draco, and was </span>
  <em>
    <span>childish</span>
  </em>
  <span> for thinking this of Severus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might be right, I might not be. Either way, that’s what it looks like to me, so unless you want Draco to keep thinking you hate him, you had better tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Severus balked. Draco didn’t think he hated him, did he? Surely all he had done for him showed - like taking in the Potter brat for </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> sake. He would never have done so otherwise, would not have been so accommodating of his whims. Severus did admit the boy offered little trouble by way of a houseguest, but nonetheless - for his own godson to think he hated him...the idea itself was completely preposterous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter, stop being so self-conscious! God!” Potter said to the air, likely having a conversation with Draco that Severus was not privy to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I have, now shut up, will you?” Potter turned back to Severus, whose brow was furrowed as he pondered the injustice that he himself had created. It had to have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault that his own godson thought this way, maybe the way he had been acting had led him to that conclusion. It was outlandish, though, to think that mere ignorance could send a seasoned Slytherin into an irrational spiral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Potter said haughtily. The boy had the upper hand, and he knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am...taken aback that my godson thinks I detest him. I admit, it is a troubling thought, for I had assumed he was aware that how I feel about him extends far beyond his death. I do not hate Draco. Nor am I indifferent to him. I owe you no explanation, Mr. Potter, as much as you may believe the contrary.” Severus hoped that was enough. He wanted to retreat to his study, and work on the potions he was behind on. Already, he could feel that familiar anxiety creeping up on him that he had forgotten something - perhaps a stasis charm? It was often unwarranted, but the few times it was made him paranoid as sin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you do, though. Draco’s issues are my issues right now. I’m his only connection to the world - and if the world is </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> acting like a jerk all day, that’s probably not very nice for him, is it? Besides, he can’t know unless you tell me, since I have to be in the room with him!” Potter said triumphantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus just wanted to leave at this point. Talking about emotions was leagues worse than </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span> them in the first place. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could bottle everything up to never think about again. “Hm. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> true. Fine, I concede. Since you have become so </span>
  <em>
    <span>inconsiderate</span>
  </em>
  <span> as to consistently bother me about this, I will tell you,” Snape said, leaning over the table. His annoyance was plain on his face, not appreciating the prying into his </span>
  <em>
    <span>private</span>
  </em>
  <span> matters. But, if it would soothe Draco’s mind, he would allow himself this moment of weakness. “People grieve in different ways, Mr. Potter. Not everyone cries their heart out, or destroys everything in sight. I have been coping in my own ways, though seeing as they are...inconvenient for you, I will make an effort to curb them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, that should be enough to satisfy the brat.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had not expected an answer like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankly, he didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> he expected. Maybe an admission of guilt, that he detested the boy for betraying Voldemort, the only true Master he served. Though maybe that was just wishful thinking - Harry didn’t like thinking of Snape as </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Perhaps he had expected Snape to spout some Slytherin bullshit about ‘keeping up appearances’. Anything but this blatant, brutal honesty about his emotions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t trust it. Not one bit. The man was a Slytherin, and a Slytherin would never be so careless with his words. He himself had gone through loss just recently. If he got the chance to talk to Sirius again, even with an intermediary, he would jump on it immediately. It was hard to fathom just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignoring</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sirius altogether. Harry would give anything to take Snape’s place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco, standing off to the side, looked shell shocked. “So...this whole time,” he murmured. “He’s just been...grieving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” he said, grimacing. “Thanks for being so...honest, Professor,” Harry said, raising his voice. “I’ll talk with Draco later and see how he feels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape looked slightly disgusted at the thought of an emotional discussion occurring under his roof, but he nodded nonetheless. “See to it that this matter is resolved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Harry frowned, bidding him goodbye and going to his room. Draco followed behind him, wringing his hands tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shut his door, turning to him. “So.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Draco asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you believe him?” Harry crossed his arms. It felt like an evasion, something fake to be resolved quickly. But, Harry amended, this was Draco’s decision to make. Just as he had adhered to Harry’s wishes about his relatives, Harry would go along with whatever Draco decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure, honestly. It isn’t like him to be so open. Of course, it isn’t every day that his godson dies. I don’t know what to think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry wished he could hug him, offer some form of comfort. He almost tried, too, hand twitching by its side, before he remembered he wouldn’t be able to touch Draco at all. Harry settled for a hopefully sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to figure it out right now. It won’t matter in the end if he changes his behaviour anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I guess that’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sat in the armchair, slumping down in it. Though he knew the issue hadn’t passed, it felt...set to the side, almost. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, laughing abruptly. “Sorry to speak badly of your godfather, but that man looks constipated all the time. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> he gave me when I thanked him almost made me think he really was having intestinal issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco smirked. “He used to leave dinner, back when we had him over often, to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>who-knows-what</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was gone for so long, too, almost like he was taking a shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ew, I don’t want to think about that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for insulting him. That image is going to haunt your nightmares, Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked away. He had known that Draco knew about his night terrors - hell, he had helped him through the aftermath of one before. But to be reminded so bluntly...it brought him back to a time before that summer, when they had been mortal enemies and would have done just about anything for a tidbit of information like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine. I know what you meant.” Harry cracked a smile that he knew Draco could tell was fake. “I’m glad we can joke like this.” He sat up, smoothing out his slacks and slipping off his socks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry…” Draco sounded lost for words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away, tossing his socks into the basket. “Like I said, it’s fine. You didn’t realise. It’s cool. Now turn around, I have to change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Right, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pulled his shirt over his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in a dream, hearing the great Draco Malfoy apologise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, not so great anymore.” He spat bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed. It seemed like it was not the night for banter. Every time either one of them tried, they would push too far and kill the mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I - I didn’t think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you didn’t,” he snarled, and Harry finished sliding on his pajamas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you want me to do to help you feel better? To say? I’ll say it exactly as you want me to, promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, yes, I do believe there is one thing. I’d like you to say ‘Draco is the best wizard in our grade.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like that, you dumbass, I meant to Snape!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll help me feel better though,” Draco whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I won’t say it.” Harry got under the covers, turning his back on the ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, fine, nevermind then. Was just trying to lighten the mood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked you a serious question, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was what you came up with,” Harry grumbled. “I’m trying to help you, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know.” Harry spotted Draco running a hand through his hair in his reflection in the window. “I just...I don’t know if there’s anything you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do. I’m dead, and nothing is going to change that. I feel so helpless, and sometimes it’s like I can’t feel anything at all, or that I feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. I’m all out of whack, like my hormones are confused with no place to go. I have no brain anymore,” Draco gave a wry laugh. “At least, not a physical one. So I don’t understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m still functioning. If I even am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry turned around, looking at Draco in the darkness. Like this, he could barely make him out, only a shimmering spectre floating in the corner of the room. It was as he said; no physical body, no control over his life. Dragged wherever Harry wanted to go, even if he tried his hardest to avoid it. Harry reached out a hand, beckoning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes just talking about it helps. And even if you can’t feel anything, doesn’t mean we can’t pretend,” he said, patting the space beside him on the bed. “Come over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes, but heeded Harry’s call nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was surprisingly close, on the double bed, just enough room for both of them. Harry had a feeling if Draco were real, if he were alive, he’d be able to feel his breath on his face. They were only a few inches apart, noses almost touching. With his colours slightly diluted in his ghostly state, Harry found himself nostalgic for the old, vibrant Draco. Even his eyes, which were a light blue when he was alive, looked more grey in the dim moonlight filtering through the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stared at each other for a moment, neither wanting to make the first move. Harry wanted to cast a stasis spell on the moment, bottle it up, never to end. In his spectral form, Draco seemed to glimmer in the moonlight, just barely opaque enough to exist. Harry knew it was an illusion, the feeling of peaceful normality; just by looking closely he could see the slight bobbing up and down of where Draco was unable to tether himself to the tangible world. He could have been resting on top of the blanket, though, if Harry disregarded that observation. He could have been alive, human, </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the touch, if Harry didn’t try to break the illusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tucked his hands beneath his face, letting out a breath. “I know this is probably very insensitive...but, well,” Harry murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spit it out, Harry,” whispered Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m kind of glad you died. Not that you died in the first place, that’s horrible, but that...you’re with me. If you hadn’t died, I would never have known this side of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This side of me would never have come out had I not made the decision I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. But still. You don’t know how happy I am that you’re here. With me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s not much I can do as I am now, though. I couldn’t...I couldn’t stop him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry knew exactly what he meant. He could see the glistening tears in Draco’s eyes, his face screwed up in a mournful grimace. “You didn’t need to,” Harry whispered. “Just being there was enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wiped at his eyes hurriedly. “It wasn’t enough. I almost stopped him, you know. One of those times. I touched him, felt his cheek beneath my hand. But then I couldn’t do it again. And he just kept...kept…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco,” Harry hummed softly. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you shouldn’t be! That’s - that’s just dreadful, living like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. It’s just one more summer, and then I’m off on my own. No more Dursleys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked away. “That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have to suffer through another second there. I should be able to stop him, or - or - do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he fumbled for words. Had Harry been just a month younger, he would have felt immense satisfaction at bringing Draco to this stuttering mess. But as he was now, all he felt was empathy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t been able to stop him my whole life. There’s nothing I, or you, can do about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there is! Just...just tell someone. Anyone. If you have someone who can help you, who’s more useful than me, they can get you out of there. As it is, I can’t do anything. But someone else can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry frowned. “If I do tell someone...what if they don’t help? What if they just send me back there? I wouldn’t be able to deal with that, knowing that someone I put my trust in betrayed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If they care about you, they wouldn’t let you set foot anywhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>near</span>
  </em>
  <span> those rotten Muggles’ neighbourhood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Harry seemed to shrink into himself. He knew there were people who cared about him, who would probably do anything to keep his relatives away, but there were just too many factors. What if they thought differently of him? Or sent him to live with someone worse, and then he’d just be the boy who cried wolf? Thinking about it turned him into a spiralling mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t. Can’t you just let it go? I promise, we can talk about it later, but...not right now,” Harry said. “Right now, I’d like to just lay here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “Really, Potter? Boring,” he trilled, but didn’t move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t know how long they stayed there, staring into each others’ eyes like star-crossed lovers. He didn’t realise when he fell asleep like that, eyes drifting closed for the most peaceful time of rest he had had in a long while. In fact, he only noticed when he awoke the next morning, birds chirping and trees rustling in the breeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had barely moved, only turned around so they weren’t facing each other anymore. Harry’s face heated up and he pulled off the covers, whispering a quick “sorry,” to Draco’s disturbed grunt. He didn’t know if Draco could sleep - he hadn’t even thought to ask. Maybe he had just been staring into space all night, zoning out while Harry rested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry left Draco in bed as he went about his morning routine. He took a shower, got dressed, and sidestepped the growing pile of laundry in the corner that Draco had glared at every so often. Throughout it all, Draco hardly stirred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry peered over at him as he was getting dressed. At that point, he didn’t care too much about nudity - they had been in close proximity long enough for that to become a nonissue - so it wasn’t that he was checking to make sure Draco wasn’t looking. Instead, he was making sure he was alright. It was odd, certainly, worrying for a ghost’s health, but if he had learned anything the past month, it was that Draco was no ordinary ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, nothing seemed to be wrong, as Draco cracked open an eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a photo, Harry, it’ll last longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry balked, face growing red. “Sorry, sorry, just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting a good look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I was making sure you were up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sat up, frowning. “I can’t sleep, so it doesn’t really matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just..drifting, I guess,” Draco said airily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds...sad,” commented Harry. Sleep was, for him, often an escape from his reality. It was a time where he was (sometimes) undisturbed, able to just rest with no interruptions. Well, save for the occasional nightmare that plagued his unconsciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, my whole existence is sad, I thought we established this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry turned away. “Right, well, we should get going. Start the day and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stood. “Yes, let’s.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>early update! enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. He knew he should forgive his godfather, and move on, but he couldn’t bring himself to. There was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind whispering that his apology wasn’t enough. He promised to do better, but he hadn’t yet shown that. It had been a day or so since the confrontation, and Severus had not yet ventured out of his laboratory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was frustrating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say it was fine, to say that it was okay that his godfather ignored him in the name of mourning </span>
  <em>
    <span>his own death</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he still didn’t see any effort on his part. Hell, he barely even saw him in the first place. It was like the argument had triggered something in him that made him hole up behind locked doors, not even leaving for meals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry seemed to like it at first, his distaste for the man colouring his vision, but after he had noticed Draco’s attitude, he sobered up. Draco appreciated the support Harry tried to offer, from placating words to distractions, but it wasn’t able to keep his mind away from the issue for long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were laying in the midday sun again, even though Draco couldn’t feel its warmth, when Harry suddenly sat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mail!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco peered up at him. “Mail?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stood. “I forgot to ask Snape about my mail!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wracked his brain for a moment, before realising he was referring to a moment of conversation with his friends. With all of the fuss surrounding Severus, both of them had forgotten to ask where all of Harry’s mail was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was odd, now that he was thinking about it, that Harry hadn’t gotten any mail the whole time Draco had been with him. Sure, there was the correspondence regarding the...situation, but other than that, no birthday cards, no insane fan letters. Being as much a hero-boy as he was, Draco was sure there would be more mail. He had even, in the past, pitied the boy’s owl, for he assumed she must have been so overworked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco laid back down. “Well, no use asking him right now. I’m sure he’s locked himself in his laboratory by this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true. But...this is important!” Harry frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “Try telling that to Severus, see how he likes it. I dare you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sat back down with a huff. “Fine, I’ll wait. But if he doesn’t show up for dinner, I’m knocking down that door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you’re determined to have answers, I got it,” Draco said, waving him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spent the rest of the day outside, rotating between sitting idly and gardening. Draco wasn’t surprised that Severus had a garden, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprised that the rest of the yard was left virtually untamed. Harry seemed to have taken it upon himself to mend that, spending his free time armed with a trowel and grit. Draco would have thought it brought back bad memories for him, memories tainted by the Dursleys’ abuse, but it seemed doing it of his own volition had the opposite effect - Harry was more cheerful, more determined to get it done for his own benefit, rather than others’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That evening, Severus did indeed venture out from his laboratory, and Harry sat up a bit straighter as he walked in. Draco noticed that Severus seemed a bit stiffer, more awkward than usual. Maybe he sensed that Harry had yet another complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you got any idea where my mail is?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus gave him a pointed look. “Perhaps it is where you left it,” he said, turning to the empty coffee pot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry huffed. “I haven’t gotten anything. Did Dumbledore tell you anything about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus moved over to the sink, filling it with water. “If he had, I would have notified you. Is it worrying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, a bit,” Harry responded, chewing his lip. “I usually get at least a bit of mail, but I haven’t gotten anything since I left for summer break. Other than my letters with you, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus hummed. “Well, I’ll bring it up with Albus at the next order meeting.” He began preparing the filter over a mug for the coffee - it seemed he was making drip. Once it was poured, however, Draco noticed the telltale signs of him ruminating over something. He leaned over Harry, pointing it out. “He has something he wants to say. See, look how he’s tapping his finger on the countertop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry glanced at him before turning back to Severus. “Is there something you want to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes,” Severus said distractedly. “How is...how is Draco doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry started. “He’s...he’s doing alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, good,” Severus cleared his throat. “Well, I must return. There should be a meal in the pantry for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it weren’t still awkward,” Draco sighed, “I would want to see what he’s brewing right now. It looks to be pretty complex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “Thank you, Professor. Um...good luck with whatever you’re working on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus rubbed his temples. “Thank you, Mr. Potter,” he said before retreating back to his laboratory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry slumped onto the table, groaning. Draco squatted down, getting to eye level. “Frustrated?” He asked sympathetically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry groaned again.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It was about a week later when Draco’s nightly zone-out was interrupted by a loud bang. He stiffened, looking around the room rapidly. No one was there - it was exactly as it had been when he sat down. Harry was still asleep in bed, no nightmares (thankfully). Draco didn’t want to interrupt what could have been the only peaceful night he’d had in a while (he didn’t know the specifics, but he often heard Harry muttering in his sleep, things like “don’t go,” and “Sirius,” so Draco had a fair idea on what the latest batch of nightmares were about).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, he couldn’t leave the room without Harry. So he regrettably woke him up, yelling his name as he slowly raised his voice until it passed through Harry’s unconscious mind. He sat up with a start, blinking around blearily. Draco gained his attention as he retreated to the door. “Something’s going on downstairs. I dunno what it is, but it’s loud, and it sounded like an explosion. We need to go investigate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s sleepy face cleared up at that, nodding silently. Draco led the way down the stairs, Harry gripping his wand tightly in front of him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>How long ago was it</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked back, a hand on the banister. “No more than a couple of minutes. It came from over here,” he said, turning down the hall. The only rooms this way were off-limits to them, Severus’ study and laboratory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they got closer, it became clear which room had made the noise. The door was blown off its hinges, smoke filtering out the doorway. There was potion splattered on the ground, a sickly glowing green. Draco hurried forward. Something must have gone horribly wrong, to have such a big reaction like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside was so much worse. The walls, floor, and ceiling were coated with the goo, there was a small fire blazing in the corner that seemed to be spreading fairly quickly, the cauldron that had housed the potion was in pieces on the ground, and Severus was lying prone in the corner, blood dripping from his temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco whimpered, running to his godfather. For a moment, he forgot he was a ghost, as he reached out to shake him awake, muttering “no, no, no, come on, Severus, get up!” He came back to his senses, though as his hand passed through. Right. There was nothing he could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trembled as Harry crashed to his knees beside him, sticking a finger under Severus’ jaw. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Harry murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he alive?” Draco said, voice high with stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “Yeah, yeah, he’s...he’s alive. We need to get him out of here, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire was still spreading, and once it reached an area covered by goo, the whole room would be lost to flames. Draco set his jaw. He’d been able to touch someone, once. Maybe this was the time God decided to take pity on him and grant him the power once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to worm a hand underneath his neck to no avail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was once again useless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Draco turned back to face the room, gazing around at the mess to try to plot an exit. If he couldn’t help, he could at least get them a quick getaway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurry, Harry, lift him up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grunted. “I’m trying, I’m trying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco glanced back. “Lift him bridal-style! Remember to support his neck. Tell me when you’ve got it and then follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry made a noise which Draco took as the go-ahead, so he began weaving his way around the mounds of goo. It was hard to keep from looking back, checking to make sure that his godfather and newfound friend were okay. He kept his eyes firmly ahead, stepping over sizzling holes in the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had almost made it to the exit when it happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>boom</span>
  </em>
  <span> resounded throughout the room, and Draco shuddered as he felt Harry and Severus pass through him, sent flying by the explosion. “Shit, shit!” Draco yelled, scrambling after them, all thoughts of safe paths gone. It was a race to leave now, the clock ticking down faster than he thought possible. It was only a matter of time before all three of them were engulfed in flames, and they...joined him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t want to think about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran ahead to find Harry panting outside the door, Severus sprawled next to him, still unconscious. “Harry! If you don’t do something now, the fire is going to spread to the rest of the house!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry jerked up, fumbling with his wand. “Right, right. What do I do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use that spell Severus taught us, the one to block off a room.” It was the first one he taught them after a major explosion had occurred - it was far above their level, but it became a necessity with kids like Seamus in the class. It was specifically for fire, to stop it from leaving a contained area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s eyes lit up in recognition, and he stood to brandish his wand in front of him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Remaneo Ignis</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He shouted, and a bright blue light came flowing out of the tip, moving to cover the entirety of the doorway, soon fading until all Draco could see was a light glowing from the doorjamb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry collapsed onto his knees, white-faced and shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco kneeled next to him, hand hovering over his back. “Hey, hey, you did well. It’s contained, it’s not going to get us. You’re fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to mention Severus, and that he still needed first aid, but one look at Harry made him snap his mouth closed. There was no way Harry was in any state to do that right now. “Can you make your way over to the fireplace? It’s just a few paces, that’s it, almost there. Firecall Dumbledore, we need his help right now,” Draco said as he guided him into the next room, regretfully leaving Severus lying in the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shakily reached up to grasp a handful of the floo powder, tossing it into the fireplace and yelling the address of The Order’s headquarters. A pudgy face appeared in the flames, brightening as one Molly Weasley caught sight of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, dear! What’s going on? It’s the middle of the night, is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no, sorry Mrs. Weasley. I need you to get Dumbledore for me, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course,” she said, face disappearing for a moment. Draco didn’t like being this close to flames any more than Harry seemed to, not after so close a call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before she reappeared, a frown painting her features. “He’s out right now, shall I pass on a message?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco and Harry exchanged a look, one of silent communication. Do they wait, or do they ask for someone else’s help?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The decision was made for them when, in the background, a bleary voice called out, “Mum? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Harry, Charlie, would you like to come say hullo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hullo, Harry,” came Charlie’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry lurched forward a bit. “Charlie? Think you could floo over here? We have a bit of a situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wrinkled his nose. “A Weasley? How’s that going to help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie responded in affirmation, and Harry shut down the call, turning to Draco. “Remember fourth year? Charlie was the dragon trainer for the tournament. I’ll bet he knows all kinds of first aid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sniffed. He couldn’t see how anyone from </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> horrid family would be useful in any capacity, but he wasn’t about to argue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A redhead came through a minute later, brushing soot off of his pants. “So, what’s so urgent that you needed me at,” he glanced at his watch, raising an eyebrow. “Three AM?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was - there was an explosion, and Snape’s hurt,” Harry rushed out, grabbing the Weasley’s wrist and dragging him down the hall. “I didn’t know who else to call, since Dumbledore wasn’t available, but then I remembered that you worked with dragons, so I’m sure you had to do a lot of first aid, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They came to a stop by Severus’ body, and Draco sat down next to him. He wished he could do something more. The feeling of uselessness pervaded his every waking moment, everything just reminding him more and more that there was nothing he could do. He could talk, could argue, could cry and feel hurt, but that was it. He was useful for nothing but being a nuisance. And even then, it was only to Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he sat by silently as the Weasley busied himself with patching up </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> godfather. He knew what to do, at least vaguely, but there was no way he could have given good enough directions for Harry to keep up with. Even so, it should have been him there, applying salve and bandaging him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco glanced back at the room periodically, just to make sure the spell was holding. It was no long-term solution, but it was good until they could get someone more skilled to neutralise whatever substance was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus was laid on the couch, his transportation having been a joint effort between the two corporeal people in the room. Draco took a seat on the floor, back resting against the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pointed look from Harry made him frown. “I’m not moving, you know,” he said, crossing his arms. “Better get comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the fact that he was sure Harry knew he could just walk away and Draco would be forced to follow, Harry still pulled up a chair of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t quite silent, not with the Weasley still bustling around in the background, but it certainly was quiet. It was a sombre type, the kind that made Draco want to break it with some comment - but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, every time he tried, the words would get stuck in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he drew his knees up to his chest, rested his chin on them, and stared out into the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning came, and with it, Draco came back to reality. His way of sleeping was always odd to experience, but he had slowly gotten used to it. The drifting, being just on the edge of consciousness, able to see and think but everything feeling as slow as molasses. It always ended abruptly, like he was jerked back to the ground by a tether each time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time it was Harry passing in front of him, disrupting his line of sight. He looked worn out, and Draco let his face fall in the knowledge that Harry had had a troublesome night while Draco sat there drifting peacefully. He didn’t deserve that peace, not when Harry could barely get back to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco turned back to check on Severus, only to find that the couch was empty. Harry must have spotted his confusion, for he butted in with, “he’s in the kitchen. Woke up about ten minute ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to go see him?” Harry prodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said lightly. He couldn’t help worrying that Severus would look at him for the first time in a month, eyes sharp with anger, and berate him for being so useless in a crisis. Say he failed him as a godfather, if he had mentored someone so hopeless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was irrational, of course. His godfather couldn’t even see him, so why would he begin talking to him in the first place? He had only just started making an effort, after all, he wouldn’t dive right into placing blame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee as though nothing had happened. He had a copy of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daily Prophet</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the day before (for security reasons, they got them secondhand), and a plate of eggs in front of him. He looked up as they walked in, eyes immediately finding Harry (and ghosting over Draco).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, good morning, Mr. Potter. I am glad to see you are unharmed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I am too. Are you okay, though? What happened last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus set down his cup. “Regrettably, I have found myself behind schedule with my potions orders. Ensuring your safety along with mine was a terrible balancing act I should never have begun in the first place. I was neglectful in monitoring my potions, and they reacted, as they inevitably would. Potions are extremely fickle things, I’m sure you must know,” he took a sip from his coffee. “I will have to cancel all orders for the foreseeable future, and foist the potion production for the Hospital Wing upon our new Potions Master. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean I will be spending more time out of my laboratory, so if that will be an issue, do let me know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco gaped. He was serious? Severus had barely taken care of them, only done the bare minimum of making two meals a day - and even then, he had skipped several of them. He looked over at Harry, expecting to see a similarly incredulous face. Instead he found...guilt? Harry’s gaze was averted, hands gripping his pants in that familiar way that meant he was self-destructing with overwhelming thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I...should I ask Dumbledore to move me? I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be here, I’m sure he can find another safe house for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus raised an eyebrow. “I have just offered a solution, and yet you are still questioning me? Try to be less thick, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco leaned over, murmuring, “it’s fine. If you tell Dumbledore you want to leave, he might send you back to the Dursleys anyway. I’m sure this is preferable.” And wasn’t that the biggest issue here? They still hadn’t done anything about his relatives, and if everything continued like it was now, Harry would be back in their clutches by next year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry just smiled wearily. “Yeah, it is.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm feeling a bit like this is meandering - like the plot in general is - so I hope the pacing is going alright. We're right on track, I think, but I still need to plan out the rest of the story. Also, yes, I did totally forget about the mail thing. I have it written down now, though, so it's all good. I never imagined how many things I would have to keep track of, it's crazy how much these things rack up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco noticed that, oddly, Harry was up early today. He was broken out of his stupor by the sound of rustling covers, even though it was barely dawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Draco asked, moving to float beside Harry as he stood in front of the closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Picking out clothes. What does it look like I’m doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “Getting up early?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t respond, only huffing in annoyance and pulling out a random shirt and pair of shorts. Draco couldn’t help the confusion that rose up in him, an unwelcome feeling he tried desperately to banish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? There’s basically nothing to do around here. Why not sleep in? God knows you need it after yesterday morning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or was it the evening-before-last? The whole commotion had thrown him off his rhythm, and Draco was having a hard time recovering. He kept looking behind him as though there was an explosion about to be unleashed, or mapping out easy exits - </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he told himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco couldn’t get hurt by an explosion, but Harry could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew it was irrational, of course - there was no potion simmering in the room, so no </span>
  <em>
    <span>chance</span>
  </em>
  <span> of something going wrong, but he couldn’t relax now that he was up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco soon found out what Harry was doing so early. He followed him into the kitchen, and stood by as usual as Harry prepared himself a meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. That was why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t want Severus to make breakfast for him, not after he revealed it was the leading cause behind the chaos the night before. Sure, Severus had said he would resolve it, but Harry was stubborn (he had essentially spat in the face of Death once already). He was a good person, no matter how much Draco wished he wasn’t (then he wouldn’t feel so inferior next to him).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they left the kitchen, food sufficiently consumed without any nagging from Draco, Harry paused for a moment in front of a small notepad, scribbling something and placing it on the stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco followed him outside, basking in the sunlight he couldn’t feel. It was still nice, though, to see the early morning dew glimmering with reflected light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s the plan for today?” Draco asked as he caught up with Harry, who was already several paces away from the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno. I don’t really have one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, more wandering then? Are your summers always this boring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Harry said, smirking. “They’re never this fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. Boring was good, because boring was replacing </span>
  <em>
    <span>torturous</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My summers were always the best. No more annoying lackeys hanging on to me, needing me to do all the work for them. And Mother </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> had the best tea parties. There were teacakes, jam, and every kind of tea you could think of.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco missed those tea parties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to be with her, or at least know she was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was sure there was something suspicious going on with Dumbledore, for him to have turned down his request point-blank. It wouldn’t be that hard to verify if his mother was alive, so it must have been something that could ruin Dumbledore’s plans. He didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were, but things were starting to stack up against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry turned to him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “We could have our own tea party. I know I’m not as good as your mother, but I make a mean teacake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco eyed him skeptically. “You aren’t joking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swear on my parents’ graves,” Harry said, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco turned around, then, looking back at Harry. “Well? Let’s get going, then. Those teacakes aren’t going to make themselves.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It happened while Harry was lugging a bag of flour from the pantry over to the counter. It was falling apart, hanging precariously from his grip. Draco fluttered about nervously, almost wishing he could reach out and grasp the other end, share the weight. He could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> Severus coming out of his study that evening to find a kitchen splattered with flour. After the night they just had, this could very well be the straw that broke the camel’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was forced to watch as it swayed back and forth with each step. It was quickly obvious that Harry would not be able to keep his hold. Draco felt as though the world had slowed down as the bag fell, and despite every part of him telling him he wouldn’t be able to hold it, he dove forward, arms outstretched to halt its descent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shiver went through his body, a wave of cold that travelled up from his toes. And then, miraculously, he felt the rough texture of the bag, the light coating of flour that found itself on his skin. He felt the weight of it resting on his arms, just inches away from the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was...holding something. His mouth fell open, looking up at Harry’s similarly dumbfounded expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fucking way,” said Harry</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tightened his grip, feeling the powder shift. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Harry cried once more, hand rising to cover his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco furrowed his brow, focusing on the heavy feeling in his arms - the first feeling he had had in weeks - as he stood, stumbling over to the counter. He heaved the bag higher and dumped it on top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was close behind, staring in wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened,” Draco preened. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> you it wouldn’t be long before I got the hang of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry balked. “You never said that. You only said you got it that </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and now I’ve gotten it twice. Keep up, Potter,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you can do it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t think so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! Who do you think you’re talking to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked exasperated. “Well, let’s see if you can help me with these teacakes then. Get me a measuring cup, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled up his sleeves, glaring at the silverware drawer. “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he said, dismissing Harry with a wave of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out, focusing on the feeling of urgency he had before. His fingers fell through. No luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning passed in much the same fashion, with Harry sending Draco off to do some task or another that he knew didn’t really matter (but still made him feel helpful) while he worked. Draco didn’t mind - at least he could focus on that instead of just watching Harry bake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tried helping set up the table outside, but he still couldn’t bring back the feeling from before. It was fine. He could just stand by and watch. Maybe make sure Harry didn’t drop anything again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were two chairs, and a light lace cloth draped over a folding table. Harry had found it in a box in the back of a closet and decided to use it to ‘add to the atmosphere.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had said it reminded him of his grandmother’s house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus had very few teapots, and certainly not enough cups for a full set, so there were mismatched cups and plates placed atop the tablecloth. Draco regarded it with disdain - no proper tea party was as tacky as this - but Harry said he found it endearing, so he sat without complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry poured a cup for Draco, perhaps as incentive to keep working on his corporeal skills, and sat down in his own chair with a huff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally done!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco chuckled, looking at the spread of cakes, biscuits, and teas. “Yeah. Thanks for doing all this for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this is for you? I haven’t had a proper cuppa in ages!” Harry scoffed, even though Draco knew for a fact that he had had tea at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> twice since they arrived at Severus’ house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still. I appreciate it,” Draco said, staring down into the tea in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed. “Yeah, well, it’s the least I could do. Y’know, because of,” he gestured around him. “All this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? Me being a ghost? That wasn’t your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that was entirely yours,” Harry snorted. “I mean...just, well, everything. I bet it piles up, huh.” He pulled his feet up onto the chair, holding onto the cup with both hands as he rested it on his knees. “Your mom, Snape, </span>
  <em>
    <span>living with Voldemort</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hell, even living with me. It must’ve been horrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mother isn’t horrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry coughed. “No, of course, I didn’t mean that. Just...not knowing if she’s okay. And after what happened - there goes all that progress with Snape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Draco huffed. “More moping. I thought we were here to drink tea?” He said, reaching out again and focusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope, still nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, sorry. Tell me more about your mom?” He asked hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grinned. “Where to begin?”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They were out there for a while, Harry enjoying the treats and Draco, every so often, attempting another grab (with no results). When the sun was high in the sky, their attention was drawn back to the house when they saw the door open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a haggard-looking Severus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He relaxed as he spotted them, though, stepping off the stoop to join them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Draco here?” Severus asked, motioning to the chair across from Harry, who nodded. “I see. I will be back in a moment, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus came back a couple minutes later, a foldable chair floating behind him, which he set up at the table. “I see you found my grandmother’s things,” he said, eyeing the tablecloth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry flushed. “Yeah, sorry. I can put it back if you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need,” he waved it off. “She was a bitter old bat anyway. Try your best to stain it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco froze. He had never heard his godfather speak like that before. He leaned over to Harry, eyes wide. “Is there something wrong with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was starting to get a handle on this private conversation thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry glanced at him. “I’m...not sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Draco say something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, yeah,” Harry cleared his throat. “He wanted to know how you were doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very diplomatic of you, Harry. Might make a politician of you yet,” Draco nodded sagely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus looked thoughtful for a moment. “Ah, yes. I am doing well. I do find myself to be a bit...directionless at the moment, but nothing that can’t be easily remedied.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry took a sip of his tea, setting it down with a light clatter. “Got any ideas yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus shook his head. “None yet. Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, uh, actually yes? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a bit bored lately, so I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe now that your laboratory isn’t being used for advanced potions, we could do a bit of review? I’m not sure how high Professor Slughorn’s standards are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a productive use of our time. Very well, Mr. Potter, we will go over skills from the fifth year curriculum and, time permitting, begin some preparation for this coming year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The perks of living with a teacher,” Harry smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suck up,” Draco muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry perked up for a moment. “Oh! We didn’t tell you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what?” Severus asked, lowering his teacup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco was able to hold something today!” Harry crowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, go ahead and tell him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> we’ve discussed this, and I’ve obviously okay-ed it.” Draco slouched in his chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly?” Severus asked, eyes seeming to sparkle for a moment. Draco had no doubt he was imagining all of the possibilities of his ghost-skills advancing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, I almost dropped a bag of flour and he caught it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is...an interesting development.” He turned to the chair Draco was sitting in, empty to him. His lips were pursed. “...Draco. Can you describe how it felt when it happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco startled for a moment, surprised to find Severus’ attention on him for once. He glanced over to Harry wearily, who gestured for him to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahem. Please translate then, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to explain. It went so fast that, to be completely honest, I’m still not sure it really happened. I felt cold, almost, like I had stepped in snow barefoot and the freezing feeling was spreading. Then, suddenly, I could feel what I was holding. After not feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> for so long, it was like a slap in the face, you know,” Draco said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry translated every sentence, only pausing at the last one. “You can’t feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shook his head. “What is there to feel? I’m not touching anything, I have no body, no nerves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that makes sense. I can’t imagine that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus looked between Harry and Draco (or the space he should have been occupying), but seemed to get the jist of the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you try to focus on recalling that feeling, Draco, you might be able to recreate what happened before,” Severus said, leaning forward in his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco swallowed nervously. “I’m - I’m not sure. I’ve been trying all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry translated, then added on, “yeah, I’ve seen him. He’s really been putting in the effort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. Then continue trying. I will return for dinner, but for right now, I have some matters to sort out. Enjoy your tea, Mr. Potter,” Severus said, standing with a thwip of his robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yeah, good luck, Professor.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>After Severus left, Draco relaxed in his seat. “Good to know I’ve been on the right track, at least. What he suggested was basically what I’ve been doing this whole time,” he pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry hummed, lifting the teapot lightly. “We’re out of tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you listening to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, just...nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was true. Draco could see Harry’s hands shaking slightly, and the far-off look he often got back at the Dursley’s house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just…” He looked down. “What if I mess up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mess up what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brewing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco couldn’t suppress his snark. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> mess up. I’m sure Severus is fully prepared for all the mistakes you’re going to make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he sighed. “But what if he gets mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weren’t you the one who wanted to do this in the first place? You know, quality time with Professor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Draco shrugged. “I say take advantage of it. He can’t see me, so he might as well just use you to replace me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry spluttered unintelligibly. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be supportive, he really was, but that used to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing. It was why he was so good at Potions. It wasn’t that he had some innate skill as a Slytherin, it was because of all the hours he spent with his godfather learning the material outside of class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We used to brew together. Since I was young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Harry’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to replace you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Draco rolled his eyes. “You and Severus have a different relationship. It just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it.” Harry looked like he wanted to clasp his shoulder, arm twitching with an aborted movement. “I’ve always been the new person, taking over the space the one before me left behind. I’m sure S-Sirius still thought of me as James, and sometimes I can’t help but think he was using me to fill the void he left. Being on the other side of it is no better,” Harry said, giving a wry smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrank under his gaze, suddenly feeling guilty. He was just being possessive, he knew. Harry needed this more than him. He was dead, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> no say over anything anymore. He should have just left it alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. You should...you should enjoy your time with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The Daily Prophet arrived the next morning, sent through the Floo Network from Grimmauld. Draco had noticed new issues strewn about the kitchen every so often, and it made sense - the house was unplottable, so they needed some way to get the paper other than Owl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Severus wasn’t up yet, so Harry went to pick it up from where it had been spit out onto the stones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s it say?” Draco asked from the table, not bothered enough to get up to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Dementor attacks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Draco straightened up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three kissed, it says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco moved next to him, and it was true - right there in bold letters - three kissed, many more injured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A bit shorter this time, sorry! I was having a lot of trouble with this chapter, so sorry if it seems a bit rushed or wonky. I'm starting to get a bit annoyed at my own penchant for slowness, so I'm trying to really get to the meat of the story. I still have a lot more to plan, and I'd like to move out of the plot-less areas, so from here you may begin seeing fewer slow scenes.</p><p>In other news, due to my need to take the time to actually properly plan this, school, and my birthday coming up, I may skip the next upload date, so the next chapter might be out by the 30th. I have exams after that, though, so I may have to change the upload schedule to account for that. Hopefully, though, with the extra time I'll be able to bump up the word count of the chapters, so look forward to that.</p><p>UPDATE 04/17/2021: soft hiatus until June 18th, because school is getting WAY too intense. Expect an update for Eid maybe, though!</p>
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